


Rescue me.

by SheyRicci



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-27 08:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15681840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyRicci/pseuds/SheyRicci
Summary: Clay was left in the Humvee...they even cracked a window for him...mission or no mission, when would Jason learn not to let that kid out of his sight?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, the guy I usually 'whump' on, is not my strong point when it comes to POV, so there isn't a lot of whumping Clay this time….
> 
> My usual disclaimers - medical blah-blah, military lingo eh...
> 
> And I tried – really, tried – to keep the continuity with 'I will follow him'. I've never done a prequel before, so if something is obvious that I trod all over, let me know!

"Brock." Jason straddled the chair at the cafeteria table opposite his team member who sat nursing a coffee, bowl of half eaten oatmeal pushed aside. "How you feeling?"

"Hey boss." Brock replied, eyes hooded, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Dog bites were painful, and his arm was wrapped from elbow to wrist. "Doc gave me Demerol."

"Did you take any?"

Silence.

"You can you know."

"I will, it gets where I can't handle it." He was trying to get by taking ibuprofen. Clay had told him to take the liquid gel-caps and those actually helped more than the generic tablets did.

Jason nodded. "Cerb's fine. Vet said so."

Brock cracked a grin. "He's never lost a fight."

"He's the reason that dog didn't tear your arm open to the bone."

Brock nodded. "Could have been worse." He agreed. "Least it's my left arm, swelling will go down today, I'll be fine. No rabies."

"What were you thinking? Breaking up a dog fight with your hands?"

Brock raised one eyebrow, Jason grinned, letting it go.

Because this was Brock and not Clay, who never responded to injury or illness or medication the way a person was expected to, Jason had nothing to worry about. Had Clay been the one bitten breaking up a dog fight, pfft, he would have had a reaction to the mutt's saliva, the dog would have been a stray not found again so he would had to have the preventive rabies treatment,would have thrown an allergic reaction to _that_ and _then_ spaced out on whatever meds the doc had given him.

Jason shook his head to shake off the thoughts. No good came of obsessing over his rookie. "Stay in quarters, get some rest, take the Demerol."

"That an order?"

Jason thought about it. "It is." He reached for Brock's untouched cup of fruit, eating the chunks of melon first. "Chopper lifts off at dusk, two hour flight will land us in darkness, no moon tonight."

Demerol would dull any discomfort Brock felt in his arm, but wouldn't muddle his head or dull his reaction time. It was just strong enough to relieve pain, yet weak enough, a determined Seal could fight off its most common side effect, drowsiness, and function normally. Well, unless that Seal was Clay – snark. So yeah, if that was what the doc had given him to relieve pain from the dog bite on his arm, Jason had no qualms taking him on the night raid to hopefully capture one of the men on Mandy's personal most wanted list.

Brock hesitated, watching Jason select his next choice of fruit – blueberries. "We landing?" He knew the choice to go or remain behind was his. Knew his boss expected him to be honest and not put the mission, himself or his teammates in danger by not being 100 percent. Knew if he chose to remain behind, it wouldn't be held against him.

"Yeah, wouldn't ask you to repel out." Jason next chose the strawberries. "It comes to that, you remain on the chopper." He knew Brock would and could repel out of a hovering chopper if the reason to do so was urgent enough, but why risk maybe permanent damage to tendons or ligaments, or at least surgery for a routine raid? "You should eat, helps with the effects of pain meds."

"Mmm." Brock waved a hand over the pushed-aside bowl. "Second bowl." He pointed to a paper plate that held a huge sticky, cinnamon roll with icing. "That's next."

Jason snorted, finishing the chunks of green apple, his least favorite because green apples were sour, he preferred red ones. "Gonna hafta run up hill both ways to burn off that baby."

Brock nodded, he'd gotten up late, hadn't joined the team for morning runs. Had decided to eat first and take the pain meds, which he hadn't yet taken, and why he'd opted for oatmeal.

"But not today." Jason ate the mandarin oranges and got up. "Take it easy, keep an eye on Spenser."

"What'd he do?" Brock joked. "This time." He matched Jason's grin. "Again." He smacked Jason's hand when he reached to scoop icing off the bun with his finger. "Ever notice how often we say 'again' these days?"

"His ears haven't popped yet." Jason stood up. "He's out running with Ray, but he's on light duty today, told him to clean weapons and stock ammo with Davis. Dunno what he's coming down with."

Stay in quarters was Jason's way of telling him to remain in the secured area where Seals ruled and from where outside press and various personal were restricted. Confined to barracks meant, don't leave the cabin where you slept.

"Davis taking any better to babysitting?" Brock asked, his fruit all gone, he pulled the cinnamon bun close. "Good thing she likes the kid."

"She growls at me, hasn't bared teeth yet." Jason patted Brock's shoulder. "That icing is sweet. See you at supper."

()

Morning runs over, Clay showered and went off on his own for breakfast. It wasn't that he didn't like hanging with members of Bravo, both from the elite six and the fifteen members of Bravo support, but sometimes, he just liked to be alone. He'd never admit it, not to anyone, maybe Brian, and that wasn't going to happen, but being the rookie on an elite Seal 6 team, sometimes…..sucked.

He wondered how it was on other teams, but Bravo didn't interact much with them, so Clay really didn't get a chance to ask anyone. And there was no one else to ask, he didn't know anyone who had been a member of Bravo, didn't even know if Bravo had ever had a rookie before. There'd been Nate, younger than the rest of the team, but older than Clay, and Clay didn't think he'd been a rookie when he'd joined Bravo, and the rest of the team had been together for, well, years. So yeah…..

He felt smothered.

He'd wanted Bravo all along – who on Green hadn't? – but hadn't gotten his hopes up, because everyone had predicted Hayes wouldn't select someone so young. So sure of that had some of the trainers on Green Team been, bets had been placed. It was well known the five on Bravo elite were tight, so tight no one broke into the circle that was Hayes and his guys.

The Alive Five: The nickname given to Bravo elite by trainers on Green team and various personnel on base.

Nate had been close to Jason, so, by his close friendship with the chief, had been close to Ray as well. But rumors had it –oh yeah, men gossiped – Sonny and Brock hadn't been all that friendly off base with the man and Trent and Eric hadn't been known to be warm to him at all.

So, hell yeah, he'd been excited when, he'd been chosen out of everyone by Hayes, and after some mishaps and misunderstandings, eventually accepted by the entire team. Sure, they liked to tease him, pull pranks, play jokes, and somehow, there was some running gag that included Ellis, Blackburn and Davis, but not him. Maybe it was because it was about him. Eh, someday, he'd find out what it was. Whatever.

But still, he felt…stifled.

Seal teams didn't always stay together. Guys got married, transferred out, got injured, mentally checked-out, personalities clashed, death…..all kinds of reasons but Bravo, well these five had been together for years…guys all over base said the reason why they were all so close was because they were also close in their personal lives…..they all lived near one another, hung out together, their wives were close, their kids were either friends or babysat the others…..hell, they even vacationed together.

Jason was friendly with the guys on Alpha and Echo….heck, Derek from Alpha lived across the hall from him and was always inviting him and Stella over for dinner or movie and popcorn or out for drinks. Popped over whenever, just 'cause. And now that Clay gave it some thought, someone from Bravo often visited Derek, like daily…..hmmmmmm.

Smothered and stifled.

"Spenser."

Clay looked up, setting the pepper shaker down, keeping his annoyance off his face and his impatient sigh checked.

"Commander." He greeted Eric. He looked at his watch. No, he wasn't late, still had 45 minutes before he had to report to 'work'. "What can I do for you?"

Smothered, stifled and stalked.

"Jason told me he has you working ammo with Davis today."

Clay shrugged. Sniffle a couple times, sneeze a time or two and suddenly, you're 'grounded'.

"Mandy wants to talk to a wife in the next village, thought I'd send you and Brock as an escort."

Aah, translation…Mandy wanted him because he could translate and she wouldn't have to depend on an interpreter. He didn't blame her, couldn't always trust them, but he was getting mighty sick and tired of never being asked. Interpreting wasn't part of his job and yet everyone just expected him to be happy to do it, whenever, wherever, for whoever.

Brock was being sent along to keep any eye on him. Poor guy. He was supposed to be resting, taking it easy and here he was being sent to babysit Clay. Geesch, get taken hostage, kidnapped – call it whatever, lost a time or two, fall down a bank, land in cold water, throw a mild reaction to an inoculation, get adopted as a 'pet' to a harem and no one wanted to let you out of their sight.

"It's okay to say she wants to use me." Clay joked without humor, finishing his milk. "I'll get a coffee to go." If Eric was sending him, he didn't have the option not to go.

"Finish your breakfast, meet up in 30."

Thirty? Technically, he still had roughly 45 minutes of his own time. How was that fair? She wanted him, she should leave when it was time for him to report to 'work'. "Do we need to gear up?"

"Nope." Eric was already walking away.

***000***

Brock joined him at the van before Mandy arrived.

"Just us?" Brock looked around, he expected at least a driver.

"Where's Cerberus?"

"Daylight." Brock reached with his left hand to open the van's door, winced and pulled his hand back. "Better he stay inside in this heat."

"You good?"

"Yeah, this will only take a couple hours. I can take a nap this afternoon." Brock again looked around for a driver, saw no one. "Guess we're driving."

"I will, you ride in the back with Ellis."

Clay had yet to decide if he would or had warmed up to their CIA liaison, Mandy Ellis. Again, she was someone who was tight with Jason. Sure, sure, Clay understood the need to fight the 'war on terrorism'. Hell, it was his job and he did it without complaint, after all, it was the job he'd always wanted and worked his ass off to get. He didn't expect warm smiles and hearty hugs after every mission, but she couldn't crack a grin and say thank you every once in a while? Blackburn did, Davis did, Bravo support did…..

"Guys ready?" she was opening the back door. "Let's roll."

"No driver?" Brock asked.

Mandy shook her head. "Less notice we attract, the better." She slanted a look Clay's way. "I'm okay," she wore a hijab, "You won't draw too much attention, just your jeans, but those blonde curls….." she shook her head.

Clay wrinkled his nose at her, turning away before she caught his expression.

What really pissed him off? She never even asked for his help, always sent Eric or Jason. The fact he spoke Arabic was not among the job qualifications to become one of the elite six on a Navy Seal Team. It was in addition to and one he could thank his dad for. His old man hadn't done that much for him while growing up, but insisting he learn the language if he was determined to become a Seal was one thing Clay actually thanked him for.

He made her wait, because he could. Brock was already in the back seat, discussing how his arm felt, how the dog was. It was obvious no one else was coming, so Clay finally got behind the wheel, started the engine and sat.

"Let's go." Mandy ordered. "What are you waiting for?"

And he sniped right back at her, matching her tone. "I don't know where we're going."

She mashed her lips together, stared out the window, finally gave him directions. Brock sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't about to get involved. Sick, hurt or medicated, Clay was all emotion and affection with everyone – even if he didn't know or remember it. Mandy was aloof and distant because as soon as she became attached, started to care, someone died.

()

The drive was maybe twenty minutes. Not so much because of distance, but because Clay's top speed was thirty. He saw no need to hurry, couldn't anyway, traffic was heavy, animals pulled carts and wagons, children ran without heed into the road and believe it or not, women wearing heavy robes and skirts, pedaled bikes.

They finally pulled up in front of the building that was Mandy's destination and Clay shifted into park, letting the engine idle. It looked to be an apartment building, but until they got inside, that was a guess.

"Are you parking here?" Mandy asked, not moving to get out. "You shouldn't."

"Closer to the door, you won't have as far to walk, safer." Clay replied. If she wanted him to escort her inside and interpret for her with the wife, she was damn well going to have to ask him.

Brock sighed, cocky, arrogant little prick. They – the team – were steadily kicking those traits out of him, but it was a work in progress.

Mandy fumed. Drat the man!

"Would you please park and escort me inside? I would like you to interpret for me." She got out through clenched teeth.

"We'll wait for you right here on the sidewalk." Brock opened the door and got out. He walked around the back of the truck and opened Mandy's door. "Don't dawdle." He told Clay. "Parking lot's right over there, stay in my sight."

"No need to fuss." Clay scowled. "Won't leave you here."

"I lose you, Jason will kill me." Brock grinned.

"For Pete's sake," Clay huffed. "Not gonna get lost crossing the street."

"Not what I meant." Brock said seriously, humor ebbing. "I mean it, I blink and you're gone and I have to hunt you down, you ain't gonna like what I'll do to you."

"With one arm?" Clay snorted.

"Guys!" Mandy called impatiently.

"Didn't say when or what." Brock smiled again. "Or with who."

Clay shifted into drive, took his weight off the brake and pulled out.

"It'll be cooler inside." Mandy told him when Brock joined her on the sidewalk.

Brock shook his head. "Not taking my eyes off him." He waved her on. "Go on, we'll join you in a minute."

"He'll be okay, you know."

"We always think that." Brock raised a hand to shield his eyes against the sun, eyes on the truck. "This time, he disappears and I gotta tell Jason I lost him, I'm damn well gonna know what happened."

"Do you guys get tired of that? Worrying about him? Not what you expected when he joined the team."

Brock looked down at her, choosing his words carefully. "Jason's at his best when he has someone to look after, worry about. That kid is ours, he's proven himself to this team and no one's attitude is going to make us give him up." A mild warning, one she didn't miss. "We had a meeting, took a vote." He joked. "Our decision's made."

"Any dissents?" If there had been any, she knew he wouldn't say who. She also knew he wouldn't lie to her. So, if the team had been divided and majority won, he'd admit it.

"Nope." He beamed proudly. They hadn't even had to convince Trent…..once Clay had found that Trent was the teams uncertified but capable medic, he was just as content as the others to let him unofficially assume and perform those duties. Unlike Nate, Clay had faith in Trent and trusted him completely.

Mandy hesitated, watching Clay get out of the truck and wait at the corner for traffic to pass. "How would you handle losing another so soon after Nate?"

"You mean, if Spenser got himself killed?" Brock shrugged. "Can't live like that Mandy, it would hurt like hell, but we'd go on, just like we did when we lost Nate." Both he and Clay had 9mms in the waist of their jeans, and though Brock didn't have an itchy finger, he couldn't help but ease a hand around to reassure himself the gun still nestled safety in the small of his back.

"Bit of honesty between us?" She asked. Brock nodded. "Nate wasn't a bad guy, but he did a lot on his own, a lot apart from you guys, I never liked that." Traffic passed between them and Clay still waited on the strip of dirt between directional traffic. He waved, flipping the bird at Brock. "He, uh…I dunno, I just couldn't warm up to him very much." She paused, quiet while Clay waited for the opportunity to join them. "You don't see that in Clay? I do."

"Nate kept to himself, never sought advice or counsel or company from anyone other than Jason. Maybe Ray." Brock shrugged. "Yeah, it bothered us…..but he had our backs where and when it mattered; in combat, in a fight, saved our asses more than once, so no complaints." Brock waved at Clay, flipping the bird back. "Clay is a lot younger than we are, he's finding his footing….we're married, have families, he's just starting his first serious relationship, kid needs time.

"It hurt Brock." She said quietly. "Sending you on a mission you all didn't come back from. Nate's the first I lost. Whether we were close or not, sleeping at night is hard. Getting Jason through that was hard. He loses Clay….then what?" She sighed, shook off the melancholy thoughts. "Is Clay going to let you guys close?"

Brock snorted, Clay already had, even if he didn't know it. "That kid? You need to be around when he's hurt or sick, all that kid wants is to be with someone he knows and trusts. He doesn't let us out of his sight. You see that, you wouldn't worry." Brock shook his head, shrugged, gave her a grin. "Thing is, he never remembers any of it and has no idea why we're all so amused. Guess someone will tell him someday." his smiled faded. He knew why no one had yet. No one wanted the kid to change, to be embarrassed by his actions and distance himself from them.

"And you guys don't mind?"

"Mind having someone trust you so much, they take comfort and feel safe just because they can see your face? Know you're with them and everything's gonna be okay?" he opened the door to the building as Clay finally stepped off the curb and started across a lane on his way to join them. "Gives us something to focus on, work with, distract us from missing family, being away from home…..Ray and the baby, Jason and the divorce, Sonny and his relationship issues."

"You guys rely pretty heavily on Trent to keep Clay on his feet, he doesn't mind?"

"Mind what, being the kid's personal medic? Hell, no." Brock laughed. "One night, we…."

The door was yanked out of his hand and a fist to his jaw rocked him back on his heels. His arms pin-wheeled, but thrown off balance by the bandage on his left, he stumbled backwards, landed hard on his ass. Before Mandy could react, she was grabbed from behind, her arms pinned to her sides, lifted off her feet and a black hood was over her head. A hand covered her mouth, muffling her attempts to scream. Then somehow, everyone was inside and the door closed behind them.

Still on the other side of yet another street, Clay saw Brock go down, get up and bolt through the door. He didn't need to see any more. Breaking into a run, he jumped a cart, slid across the hood of a car, vaulted over a donkey, said a brief prayer donkeys were not the height of a horse, and skidded around a three-wheeled truck, sliding to his knees when he misjudged the distance clearing the bumper. His stumble didn't slow him down one bit; he hit the sidewalk at a run, pushing pedestrians out of his way, a woman off a bike.

Leaping over a ditch, he avoided the front door and ran down the side alley. With a running, agile jump, he easily gripped the fire escape, swung on his hands several times to gain enough momentum he could swing his feet up, then was up and over, vaulting his weight forward to land on his knees. Using the handrails as support because the fire escape shimmied under his weight, he took the rickety steps three at time until he came to a window that led into the stairwell.

Using an elbow, he smashed the window and ignoring the jagged glass, dove head first through the broken pane, tucking and rolling, somersaulting to his feet and rushing down the steps until he came to the landing where he could see the lobby. From there, he launched over the railing, falling forward in a dive to the first floor, landing with a thud on one of the two men engaged in a fist fight with Brock.

Together they hit the floor; Clay's landing cushioned by the body beneath him. Hooking an arm around the man's throat, Clay pulled the 9mm from the small of his back before rolling with the man on top of him, to his back. One shot, and the man fighting with Brock had a third eye between the two on his face.

Brock rolled free, scrambled to his feet and ran for the back door in pursuit of Mandy.

The man locked in his arms had been stunned both by the fall and the weight falling on him but he began to stir, fighting sluggishly against Clay's hold.

Clay weighed his options: smother, strangle, choke, break his neck.

Jason would want at least one of the men who had attempted to take Mandy alive, so he took the extra seconds needed to render the man simply unconscious by cutting off his air supply, then quickly secured his hands behind his back, frisked him for weapons, and finding none, used the black cloth bag the captor carried to cover his head. If he smothered, eh, Jason would just have to get over it.

Pushing up, he came out of his crouch and ran after Brock through the back door, bursting out onto the docks amidst a throng of people.

"Shit." Clay pulled up short. Brock played tug-of-war with the third captor for possession of Mandy. With Mandy between them, Brock couldn't get at the man and if he were to let go, the captor could easily escape into the crowds with her in tow. No doubt the destination was a boat.

He had two options; run and tackle, hope Brock didn't lose his hold or footing, hope no one got in his way before he could land on the captor, or take aim and shoot.

"GET DOWN!" Clay yelled. He took a stance and holding steady, raised his arm.

Training and instinct prompted Brock's instant reaction to the command. He threw himself backwards, pulling Mandy's weight with him. He hit the pavement on his back, Mandy stumbling, hunched over towards him, the pull on her other arm strong and resisting letting her weight fall Brock's way.

The hood had fallen from her head and she ducked her head as best she could, but still, she swore she felt the air from the bullet as it passed her cheek….it was that close to her head. Next thing she knew, the weight on her other arm was gone and she was released. Unable to regain her balance, she landed in an ungainly sprawl on top of Brock.

"You okay?" Brock was on his ass, holding her steady. "Come on, get up, we can't stay here." He wished he could give her a minute to catch her breath, nod her head, get a grip but they didn't have the time.

Clay was there, picking Mandy up and setting her on her feet. He held her arm with one hand, holding the other out to give Brock a hand to his feet.

"You think like Jason." Brock dusted off his butt. "Don't come through the front door like a normal dude, nope, you have to dive off a stairwell from two flights up." He spoke even as they grouped and ducked, prepared to move out attracting as little notice as possible.

"Move." Clay urged. "This way, left one alive in the lobby. Gotta get out of here before authorities get here."

"Hold his hand." Brock ordered Mandy. "Do not let go, we can't lose him now." He held her other hand and led the way. Once back inside, Brock left Mandy with Clay and went to retrieve the truck. Wouldn't do to escort a bound man with a black hood over his head across the street! "I'm driving." Brock held his hand out for the keys.

Clay had kept up with the pace Brock set, but by the time they were back inside, he'd pulled up with a limp, couldn't keep the grimace from his face as he dug in the front pocket of his jeans for the keys.

"Find her a towel or something." Brock said before leaving. "Don't let him out of your sight." He told Mandy, pointing at Clay.

"I'm okay." Mandy was bouncing back.

"Yeah, I think he means, you should, uh, clean up a bit." Clay reached to pull the hijab from her head. "Kinda got some, uh, blood on you." He folded the head scarf to a clean spot and helped her wipe her cheek and forehead. "Sorry about that. It was him or Brock."

Mandy nodded. Not you and Brock, just Brock.

"Thank you," She tucked her hair behind her ear. "From what? 9mm's don't splay…." She shuddered. Hell, maybe they did when you shot _through_ a head. Also depended on what kind of ammo the gun was loaded with.

He chucked her chin with a grin. "Ready?" He pulled their captive to his feet and shoved him out the door.

He was not gentle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm a bit sad...one of my favorite shows - Shooter - has been cancelled. *Sigh* I lost Timeless, now Shooter.  
> Stupid 18-49 demographic the networks go by (?).
> 
> So happy to hear you all are enjoying this so far, hang in there, I blow him up, next chapter!

 

Jason, Ray, Sonny and Trent were eating a late lunch at a café on the opposite end of the city from where Clay and Brock had escorted Mandy. They had a few hours free before needing to hit the sack before flying out. Brock was on base resting, and Clay was with Davis…

Jason looked at his phone before answering. He really had to get one of his kids to assign each number its own ringtone. Course, little good that would do when he received so many calls from unknown numbers.

"Yo?" He swiped answer.

"You need to return to base."

"What?" Jason set his fork down. A signal every man at the table knew well – news they didn't want to hear. Ray sat back, swallowing his last bite of food with water and eating no more. "Why?"

"Mandy got word the wife of one of her interpreters wanted to see her." Eric sighed. "It was a trap. Someone tried to take her."

"Okay, you know that, so obviously they failed in their attempt." Jason replied slowly, signaling for the check. "Why did she go alone? She okay?"

"She's fine." Eric assured him. "And she didn't go alone."

Jason felt the familiar dread start in the pit of his stomach, worm its way around to his back and tingle its way up his spine until the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"If she is, who isn't?" he fished for his wallet but Sonny had out the money needed to pay the bill.

Eric sighed. "My fault Jason. The wife doesn't speak English, so I sent Spenser and Reynolds to escort her. Mandy wanted Spenser to translate for her."

"Eric, so help me God, if the next words out of your mouth are Brock lost that kid in this city…"

His three teammates froze, looked up; bill, to-go boxes, drinks, all forgotten.

"No….no, he's back on base." Eric assured him hastily, then paused, "In the infirmary."

Jason waved his men back into their seats, they'd half rose, ready to storm from the café and tear apart a city. He blew his breath out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What happened?"

"Three captors, two dead, one brought in alive." Eric explained. "They had Brock, kid jumped from a 2nd floor stairwell to get to him, shot one guy right between the eyes, choked another unconscious. They went after the guy who had taken Mandy, Spenser shot him in the head. She's a bit shaken."

"Brock? Clay?"

"Brock's okay, arm's sore, even wearing long-sleeves to hide the evidence of an injury didn't protect him, once he showed a weakness in that arm, they went after it to incapacitate him." Eric paused. "Clay's with the doc, walked in on his own. Guess, he got clipped by a three-wheeled truck, yes, you heard right. That and the free fall from the 2nd floor left him sore and bruised. Believe it or not, doesn't look like anything's broken."

"We're on our way back." The bill paid, the food boxed, Jason was on his feet and moving. "I don't care what you have to do, but keep Spenser in the infirmary. Handcuff him to the bed if you have to, I don't want him leaving until we get there."

"Done."

"Cancel tonight, I'm down two men."

"Will do."

Jason thumbed disconnect, pocketed the phone. His men followed without comment.

"Fill us in." Ray said as soon as they were in the truck and mobile, Sonny driving. "What happened to Clay?"

"Eric sent him and Brock to escort Mandy to visit some old woman….three guys tried to take her. Two dead, one brought in alive. They're all okay, back at base, Clay's in the infirmary with the doc."

"Of course he is." Sonny laughed. "What else do you expect?"

"Who did the shooting?" Trent asked. It didn't matter, they were all used to taking a life, but a pat on the back, a hair ruffle from a teammate made it a bit easier to sleep at night.

"Clay took out both. I told him to pack ammo." Jason groused. "Not go out and use it."

"Eric over-rode you." Ray pointed out. "Kid couldn't very well say no. Eric knew your orders."

"Don't blame Blackburn." Trent argued. "It was a simple escort, who wudda thought anything like this would happen?"

"It's Clay!" Ray and Sonny chorused, then laughed.

"More I think about it, the more you're onto something Sonny." Jason laid his head against the window. "Tag his ear with GPS, maybe I outta put Davis on it. There's gotta be an app for that, right?"

"But, he's okay?" Trent asked. "Why's he with the doc? What happened?"

"Still has that horseshoe up his ass." Jason answered. "No apparent serious injury." He told them what little he knew.

"How'd they get back to base?" Ray asked. "And with a prisoner?"

"Dunno, didn't ask."

***000***

The team doc, the one that often flew with the team to wherever they were going, had no qualms taking over the infirmary and ordering the medical staff around.

The base doctor wanted everyone out of the exam room. Bravo's doc knew from experience, there was no way in hell either Brock or Eric would let Clay out of their sight until Jason arrived with Trent.

Brock willingly submitted to the doc, letting him tend his arm – which was fine – without complaint, but Clay was his usual, cocky, obstinate self, which told both Eric and Brock he was okay. He kept insisting he was fine, didn't need the doc to examine him, didn't need to stay in the infirmary.

The only reason he was there was because Brock had driven back and once on base, he'd parked right outside the infirmary, which alerted Eric that something was amiss. And once Eric had arrived, Clay had no soap box to stand on.

"I'm good." Clay insisted. "See to her."

"Base doc has taken care of Ms. Ellis." The team doc tut-tutted. "Off with the shirt."

"You're limping." Brock pointed out helpfully, grinning at the look Clay shot him. "Stiffened up in the truck."

"So, I'll bruise." Clay shrugged. "Nothing to cause all this fuss over."

"Clay," Eric sighed. "You know you aren't getting out of here until the doc examines you and Jason arrives, so take your clothes off and sit on the table."

Clay would argue with the doc, give Brock a hard time, but Eric? He sighed, pulling his t-shirt off over his head with one hand.

"Don't huff at me." The doc reprimanded. "I didn't get hit by a car, fall several stories. You're going to be here awhile. I want x-rays, rule out fractures. CT scan, rule out internal damage."

"I wasn't hit by a car." Clay scoffed. "I hit it."

"Pants too." The doc ordered. He turned his back and rolled his eyes.

Seals – ugh.

Why, again, did he want this job? Either they were tough, macho, my-severed-arm-doesn't-hurt assholes or they were I-have-a-hangnail-I-need-a-splint crybabies.

And then…..and then, well, there was this Seal.

Obstinate, stubborn, pig-headed…as long as he was conscious, clear-headed, un-medicated, the doc wanted to throw him right through a window…..but let him be ill or hurt or drugged or somehow, otherwise incapacitated and the kid was compliant, manageable…..hell, even submissive when the Bravo medic was around.

"And there's a difference?" Eric spoke up. "Don't say it." He held up a hand when Clay opened his mouth to tell him why, in his opinion, there was a difference. "Just shut up, be quiet and let the doc have his way with you."

"I'm fine. I don't need the works." Clay objected.

"You jumped off a second floor railing, you ass." Brock cuffed his ear affectionately. "The staircases were high. Yeah, okay, you landed on the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but hearing the thud when you hit took a year off my life."

"I know how to land."

Brock nodded. "Yeah, you do, and it's why you were able to walk away, but for my piece of mind, for me, 'cause I'm the one who's gotta tell Jason what happened, shut the fuck up, take your jeans off and lie down."

That got Clay's attention, silenced any further insistence he was fine.

Brock snickered. He didn't like using manipulation, but it worked on any of them. Divert attention and focus to a teammate who had been in the same fight, battle they were.

"You're okay?" Clay asked, jumping at the cold stethoscope on his bare back. "Christ, blow on that thing first or something."

"Deep breath," the doc said. "He needs to go lie down, get some rest, take the pain meds."

"Your arm ok?" Clay twisted around to see Brock. "You said in the truck you were ok."

"I am. Will feel better when I know you are."

"Sit still." The doc chided. "Gonna give you a muscle relaxant. Skelaxin takes about an hour…" the doc was saying, paying no attention to Eric and Brock until both yelped out a startled NO in unison! "What?"

"No drugs." Eric said hastily. "Not until Trent gets here."

"He won't be moving in another hour. He's going to be so sore and stiff…"

"Yeah, I get that, but no." Eric shook his head. "Clay, any known reactions to muscle relaxants?"

"Say what?" Clay asked, confused.

"You ever taken anything like that before?" Brock asked.

"Uh, no. Don't think so. No?" Now Clay looked bewildered. "No." he said more decidedly.

"Then we wait for Trent." Eric said firmly, making the decision. "He can soak in a tub with Epsom salt later."

Why wait, Eric didn't know, just knew they would. Trent wouldn't know how Clay would respond or react to whatever the doctor wanted to give him to ease his discomfort any more than anyone else would. And yeah, Eric was well aware how ironic it was to go on the advice of a mere medic over that of a doctor, but this was Bravo and until they got Clay Spenser figured out, it was Trent they were going to trust.

If Trent agreed to let the kid be medicated and he threw a reaction, the team would shrug it off. Simply go nope, another drug off the list Clay could take safely. If the doc just medicated the kid on his own and he threw a reaction, Jason would have a freaking fit.

That was what Eric loved about his team's 'medic'. He never took any decision he made that backfired, personally. And Eric also loved that no one on Bravo – including Clay, though Clay was not the only team member to ever get injured – ever blamed or accused him either. They'd pat him on his back and say, 'next time'. Would simply gather around and see Clay, or whoever, through a rough couple hours.

Eh.

"I, uh, usually just take the Advil liquid gel-caps." Clay gave his Commander a look that said Eric had gone around the bend with one too many drinks. "Just gimme two of them."

"Clay, your shoes, your jeans…...take them off." Eric snapped his fingers. "And get on the table."

"Mmmmm." Was all the doc said as he watched Clay grudgingly obey Eric. "You didn't say you hurt your ankle."

"Because I didn't." he looked down at his bare foot, sock still in his hand. "Huh."

"And that's why you're supposed to wear 8" high boots." Eric sighed.

"You said we didn't have to gear up!" Clay objected. He turned his foot in, looked down at the bruising on his outer ankle bone. "Must have whacked it when I swung up onto the fire escape. Doesn't even hurt."

"Lie back, let me see your hip and belly, finish the exam. Then we'll go get x-rays." The doc shook his head. "This where the truck hit….." he corrected himself when Clay puffed up, "you hit the truck?"

Now clad only in his boxer briefs, Clay easily hoisted his weight up onto the table by bracing his palms againt it. He hesitated a moment, then gave in and laid down. When Brock and Eric both hovered over opposite shoulders of the doc, their three heads merging into one huge, wavering balloon, he closed his eyes and turned away.

()

Because no further calls came from Eric during their drive back to base, no one was too concerned about serious injury befalling Clay – this time.

Ray took the boxed food off to the fridge, Sonny sought out Mandy and Jason and Trent reported to the infirmary.

"Where's Brock?" Jason demanded, seeing Eric and no one else.

"He took a fairly good pummeling by two goons. He took his pain meds and went to lie down." Eric responded. "Davis is keeping an eye on him."

"Clay?" Jason sat down. "What the hell happened?"

"Took him for x-rays. Had to order him to go, Christ, he can be a pain in the ass. Keeps insisting he's fine, but he's limping." Eric shook his head. "Jumped a truck, misjudged, clipped his lower belly, just bruised….he's okay. Doc's taking x-rays and a CT scan just as a precaution."

"Mandy's okay, right?" Jason pushed. "Any idea yet who would want to take her? Would know who she is and how to get her off base so they could?"

"No, working on it." Eric said. "She's fine, couple bruises from tug-of-war, but not harmed. Little shaken, guy shot in the head right next to her…..uh, Trent hey," he greeted when Trent joined them. "Doc wants to give him Skelaxin."

Trent nodded. "Muscle relaxant." He gave the side effects some thought. "Might make him sleepy. Wouldn't be a bad thing, keeping him down when he should be resting isn't easy."

"Or?" Jason prodded.

"With him? Who knows?" Trent shrugged. "Common enough side effects, the usual with any medication…..thing is, he either throws a completely different reaction than predicted or doesn't respond the way most people do. Try it I guess, see what happens. Will ease how sore he's gonna feel."

"I say throw him in a tub with Epsom salt." Eric said. "We're gonna need him walking without gimping."

"That too." Trent agreed. "We're in tonight, right?" he looked at Jason for confirmation, who nodded.

Clay came back from having x-rays and the CT scan, dressed and walking. Trent shook the bottle of pills the doc had left with Eric to give him, and called him over.

"Look at me." Trent ordered.

Clay held his scowl and obeyed. Hell, he was fine! How many times did he have to say it? And to how many different people?

"I'm good Trent."

Trent used two fingers under Clay's chin to raise his head, tilting it towards the light, searching for shadows under his eyes, lines around his mouth, furrowed brow, puffy bottom lip from biting it…signs that Clay was in pain and keeping silent about it.

"Alright," he was satisfied Clay wasn't lying. "I'll take him to the hot tub, give him one of these, see him to bed."

Jason nodded, waiting for Clay to look at him for permission to go with Trent. When he did, Jason couldn't help but soften, letting one corner of his mouth twitch in a reluctant grin.

"Did good." Jason gave him a gentle shove. "Take the bath, get some sleep, write up your report."

"We still leaving tonight on the raid?" Clay asked, hoping to be told no. They were already down Brock being 100 percent, he'd suck it up and do what he had to, if needed.

"Hell, no." Jason was ready to go search out Mandy, see Brock. "Listen to Trent. You want dinner, have someone bring it to you in quarters. You're staying in tonight."

It was an order.

Clay nodded, willing to accept an easy night. Hot soak, hot meal, bed sounded a great way to spend the evening. He went with Trent without complaint.

The doc walked in. "Chief Hayes, I see too much of you."

"He's okay?"

"Remarkably so." The doctor handed him a file. "Hard to believe, but nothing broken, nothing damaged, just bruised and sore. You'd think with a fall like that, despite knowing how to land and what – or who, he landed on, there'd be some internal damage somewhere, but nope."

"So, after a night of rest, he's good to go?" Jason pressed.

"Aren't you going to ask your medic?" the doc asked sarcastically.

Jason nodded, didn't take offense. "Yeah, I am. Trent can read the kid like a book. Clay knows his way around you, knows how to hide and cover up pain and discomfort…..we all do. He'll lie right to your face and you won't know it."

"But Trent will?" the doc frowned doubtfully.

"He will." Jason said firmly. "We've been in to many tight situations where honesty was the only thing that kept us alive."

The doc shook his head. When he'd accepted this assignment, accompany a Seal team – the same Seal team – on missions, he'd naively thought it was an easy road to retirement. HA! Not as the 'team doc' for the great Jason Hayes! Course, the other side was, Trent did most of his work for him!

"Go." The doc waved him on. "You know where to find me, he or Brock takes a turn."

"Thanks doc." Jason shook his hand, tucked the file under his arm and when no further instructions came about Clay, excused himself to go find Mandy.

"So, Lieutenant, you hanging in there?" doc asked. "Got your hands full, how's the ulcer? Been good lately?"

"I'm, ah, good." Eric rubbed his forehead. "Always something with this team, they keep me on my toes."

"Young Spenser?"

"All of them." Eric admitted. "Jason the vindictive, protective leader; Sonny the hot-head, who doesn't like anyone; look at Ray twice, there's gonna be a fight; piss Trent off, and you manage to walk away, you're doing so with a broken bone; rile Brock up, he'll crack your skull, and he's the most passive on the team; and Clay shoots to kill. He don't like you, you're not likely to keep your head for long. He's fond of headshots."

"And yet, best team the Navy has."

Eric beamed. "Hell, yeah!"

***000***

Clay hadn't had anyone give him a bath since he was like, five. Okay, not really a bath, and Trent hadn't hung around once Clay had eased into the hot tub filled with Epsom and dead sea salts….but still.

Not a Jacuzzi, just a large metal tub with enough force in several jets to make the neck-high water bubble gently and oh yeah, the warm, fizzy water was soothing and relaxing.

Now, several hours after the, uh, incident, medical exam and tests over, Clay was feeling every throb, ache, and pain he'd suffered as a result of his dash across the street, the jumps and leaps, the fall…..hell, even his shoulders ached. And his favored over-the-counter pain relief wasn't touching it.

Trent had been hesitant to give him the muscle relaxant the doc had prescribed and Clay didn't understand why. Why did everyone always look at Trent like they were asking his approval before the doc gave him anything? He was willing to take them and go to bed if that made Trent happy, wasn't that enough?

He yawned, eh, he'd figure it out later. The warm water, the pull of the medication, was making him sleepy and he saw no need to fight it.

"You drown in there, I ain't pulling your ass out." Sonny lounged in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

Clay merely opened one eye.

"Ain't you wrinkled up like a prune yet? How long you plan on staying in there?"

Until someone helps me out, Clay thought drowsily. Trent had told him to stay put. Stay put he had.

"Tell me you're wearing shorts." Sonny pushed off the door frame. "Something."

He was.

"Okay then, up you go." Sonny waited next to the tub, large towel in his hands. "Clay, yo…..come on. Ray brought chicken over from the cafeteria. Fried chicken, haul your scrawny ass out of there." He reached over, turned the jets off, released the drain.

Hands on either side of the tub, Clay moved to push up, shoulders voicing a mild protest. He grimaced, biting his lip….how the hell did those competitors on that Ninja Warrior show do this? His palm slipped, he went down on his elbow, coughing up a mouth full of water.

"Good God." Sonny watched him flail, recalled Trent's admonishment that the kid was medicated with muscle relaxants – yeah, yeah, just one, but mind you, this was Clay and they had no way of knowing how he would react – and shouldered the towel. "Come here." Reaching over the tub, he easily slid his hands under Clay's arms and helped him stand and step out of the tub onto a mat. "Dry off and cha…OUCH!" he whistled at the bruise showing above the waistband of Clay's boxer briefs and below his belly button. "Shit kid, the hell?"

Clay pulled the towel from Sonny's shoulder and looked down. "Oh that." he shrugged, wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping out of the wet underwear. "Thought I cleared the truck, slight misjudgment."

"Christ." Sonny was quiet. "Brock and Mandy told us what happened. Doc told us how you got in the building." He gave Clay a one-armed hug. "Why'd you do something so stupid?"

"Not letting anything happen to Brock." Clay searched for clothes, gave up when he didn't find anything. A quick dash across the compound in a towel it would be. "Any idea what's going on?"

Sonny noted Clay didn't include Mandy. Yeah, they were going to have to work on that. "Eric and Mandy are on it. Come on, don't lose that towel."

()

Clay wasn't hungry, wanted to go to bed, but everyone – even Lisa, Eric and Mandy – was waiting for him in barracks, so he dressed and sat down at the table for fried chicken.

"You good?" Jason asked. He'd waited until everyone was eating water melon, the meal over before confronting Clay.

"Sore." Clay admitted. "I'm fine."

"Yeah? Been an hour or so since you took the muscle relaxant. You know me?"

Clay frowned, then scowled, so not in the mood to be teased. "I'm going to bed." He started to get up.

"Sit." Jason ordered.

He sat. Lowered his eyes, waited.

Jason watched the emotions cross his rookie's face: confusion, uncertainty, bafflement, perplexity, puzzlement, annoyance. The poor kid didn't know what to think. Didn't know if he was in trouble. And if he was, for what.

"You have a habit of not responding to medication the way you should." Jason said finally. "You're fine from the fall, okay from being hit….:" he cracked a slight grin, "...hitting a car, I'm good with that, with what the doc said. But kid, you throw a reaction to what the doc gave you, we're a little gun-shy, okay?"

Clay nodded.

"We're gonna cluck." Sonny added. "Like mother-hens 'til we're satisfied. Got it?"

Clay nodded, shrugged….smothered, stifled, stalked.

***000***

"He's fine Jason, he said so, doc said so,Trent said so." Eric said for the umpteenth time, they'd retreated to Eric's cabin for a beer after supper. Clay and Brock had gone to bed. "And thanks to him, so are Brock and Mandy."

"Yeah, but how?" Jason opened his third beer. "Brock said he jumped from the 2nd floor stair railing Eric. Flights of stairs over here are like, what, 30 steps or more?"

"I've never counted."

"Not the point." Jason snapped. "Okay, yeah, sure, he landed on a dude, but the impact, the distance, the speed which he fell…and he walks away with what? A bruise on his ankle he banged swinging up onto a fire escape? Come on!"

"He's got a bruise from the truck bumper." Eric reminded him, sighed when Jason didn't respond to humor. "He's young, his body can take harder hits than ours can. Age difference, you know." Eric took a drink. "Scary thing is Jace, if he'd gone through the front door, like training dictates, both he and Brock would be dead and they would have gotten away with Mandy."

"You think I don't know that?! Doesn't have to be said. God, it's a kick in the gut every time I think about 'what if' Clay had just run through the door." Jason rubbed his hand over his jaw. "And when I write this up, I'm supposed to reprimand him for not doing so. Because it's what he should have done." He drummed the bottom of the bottle lightly against the table. "If he ran with Charlie and went off book, Beau…"

"What's this about Jason?"

Jason glared at him. "Every time I think he's seriously hurt, he gets up and walks away. A bruise, a sprain, a sore ankle. What's it gonna be next? What about the time that comes when I think he's gonna get up and just go on his way like he always does and he doesn't, 'cause he's dead?"

"Clay isn't reckless. He doesn't take unnecessary chances. Not going through that door was the right thing to do, the smart decision." Eric pointed out. "Jumping from the 2nd floor...meh," wasn't much of anything else Clay could have done though, and they both knew it. "You asked Clay never to hide or keep anything from you, he hasn't. I mean come on, we're in a bar and the kid comes over to faint at your feet."

"He was gonna hit the floor anyway."

"You dragged him out of a creek in Iceland, Trent wasn't there, and he trusted you to do what was needed to help him."

"He had no idea what was going on."

"Got a flippant answer for everything, don't you?" Eric glared. "Clay butts heads with Sonny now and again, but there's a bond there Sonny never had with Nate. Even you can't deny that." he waited but Jason had nothing to say. "Trent has no problems looking after Clay because the kid doesn't have issues with his rough and abrasive ways. Nate did."

"Trent technically isn't a medic." Jason ha'ha'd triumphantly. "Not officially."

"For Bravo he is. He ever goes to another team or has a different team leader, he wouldn't be. No other Chief is going to give him free rein, but you do, so yeah, he's Bravo's medic and with Spenser around, you all need one."

Jason bobbed his head, thinking, thinking, thinking…. "Okay, okay, fine. Want me to admit it? Trent is _our_ medic, but we don't let it be known. It's our thing."

"Like I didn't know that?" Eric harrumphed. "You get away with a lot of shit Jason. I either let you, help you or turn my back and pretend I don't know about it."

And Jason loved him for it. "Nate was part of this team." Jason said after a moment of silence, taking pride and comfort in his Commander's support.

"He was." Eric agreed. "But he wasn't everyone's friend." He finished his third and last beer. "But with Clay….."

"And there's always a 'but'." Jason sighed.

"The dog likes him." Eric pointed out. "Took right to him, dogs do judge people you know."

Jason conceded the point, tipping his beer bottle in salute. "So do you."

Eric hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I do. So, about the men who tried to take Ellis."

"Find out something? Who wants her? And for what?"

"Not a lot. The wife she went to see can't be found. We figure she's never going to be found. Her husband was Mandy's field interpreter helping her gather intel on Taha Fasih."

"And he's on top of her personal most wanted list."

"And her boss's." Eric nodded. "He got three agents from the CIA ambushed and killed."

"What about the interpreter himself?"

"Disappeared before the wife did."

"And we didn't raid tonight." Jason ran his hands through his hair. "Christ, can't think straight."

"Doc cleared Clay for the day after tomorrow, Brock's good to go, we'll try again."

Jason lounged across the table, chin cupped in one hand. "How the hell did he lead missions through two tours of Afghanistan?" he wondered out loud. "We take our eyes off him for two seconds and some Prince or Sultan of some sort is asking me if his harem can keep him 'cause he's pretty to look at."

Eric snorted, choking on his beer, then just burst out laughing. Pounded his fist on the table in a fit of merriment.

"Of all the ways…" he was giggling now. "…you ever thought…" chortle, "…someone could go missing…" he wiped his eyes, "…did that scenario…." he doubled over, hiccupped, "…..ever cross…..your mind?" he howled in delight.

Jason finally grinned, 'cause, no…no it never had.

*** _the very next day_ ***

"Jason." Mandy joined him at the breakfast table. Ray was in line, having just walked in to join him, but Brock and Clay had yet to get out of bed and had been given the morning off. Sonny and Trent were in the weight room. "Good Morning."

"Feeling better?" Jason asked. "Sleep okay?"

"I'm good. What are you doing today?"

"I bet you're going to tell me."

"There's an informant I'd like to talk to before you raid tomorrow night."

"Want him brought in?" Jason picked up his to-go cup of coffee. "We go get him, gonna blow any chance of him being a snitch in the future."

"I don't like that term." She scolded. "He's a dealer, anyone seeing you will merely think he's being arrested."

"By American military?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Is this a mission?"

"A favor."

Jason was quiet. A favor meant, no back-up, no support. His men would be given the option whether or not they'd want to go. He knew there'd be four ayes...Clay wouldn't be eager to go do anything for Mandy, he wasn't supposed to leave base anyway until tomorrow night and Trent would be undecided, because if Clay didn't go, he wouldn't want to leave the kid behind without someone to keep an eye on him.

"How's Clay?" she asked after a moment. "Eric said he was told by the doc Clay could go on the raid tomorrow but is supposed to stay in quarters today."

"If I needed him, he's ready." Jason sighed. "You gotta get over this Mandy. Kid ain't going anywhere, accept it."

She arranged the salt and pepper shaker, returned the ketchup bottle to the condiment tray, sorted the packets of sugar and artificial sweeteners by color. Stacked the packets of jelly.

"Aren't you scared of losing him?" she asked finally, glancing up then looking away.

"Every god-damn, fucking day." Jason admitted. He prayed every night that each day would be easier for him to keep Clay in his sight. "And not just to death."

Mandy nodded. "Okay, ok, I'll try."

That was all Jason could ask for. "Tell me about your informant. If I'm gonna ask the guys to do a favor for you, they should know the risks."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got Season One...been catching up, so nice to watch the episodes all in row...there really is something to this 'binge watching' fad.
> 
> So, until the radio or Sirius plays another song to inspire me...this is it for a while!  
> Thanks for hanging in there with me...you're all so great and it's nice to know like-minded people enjoy what I do.

 

Sonny slumped against the wall next to Brock, both out of ammo. No one had brought more than the clip in their gun, no one wore helmets - Kevlar vests were worn under t-shirts and button-down shirts. Because, god-dammit, this was supposed to have, as a favor to Mandy, been a quick trip to round up the informant she wanted to have a word with before launching a night raid the following day when they would have Clay back.

Not a FUCKING ambush.

They'd approached a group of kids kicking a soccer ball, when, in the blink of an eye, only the ball remained, the kids slipping away and then – they were under fire.

Well trained, able to react fast, think quickly and shoot accurately, they were able to take cover and hold off whoever was shooting at them, but they couldn't see who they were shooting at, where the shots were coming from or guess how many there were.

Jason had radioed for additional support and now they were simply trying to hold off the hostiles, whoever they were, until help arrived…..and it was looking quite grim.

As Brock ran out of ammo, then Sonny, now Trent, the hostiles shooting at them picked up on the less frequent shots being fired at them and one by one, the shooters began to emerge, coming at the half crumbled wall Bravo crouched behind.

Yeah, Ray and Jason were able to fire accurately, but each was down to half a clip and they would run out of ammo just holding the hostiles at bay – and before ground support arrived.

"Any ideas?" Ray asked his boss.

They were both thinking the same thing. One of them could throw a grenade, ammo pockets or not, no Seal went anywhere in this country without some kind of grenade in their pocket, take out a couple shooters, but would have to stand up to throw accurately and with enough force to throw the distance. It was suicide.

"They're just kids." Jason said in disgust. He thought of his daughter, near the age of these kids, bit younger perhaps, but this was an 'us or them' situation. These were real bullets coming at their heads. "Pull a pin…"

One of the shooters, getting more daring in exposing himself as the shots coming at him became less frequent, stood up and stepped out into the road. He raised his gun but before he could take aim, his head exploded; blood, grey matter, brain splattered the wall next to him. His body, yet to realize it no longer had a head, remained on its feet for an amazing moment before crumpling at the knees and folding up.

"What the….?" Jason actually stood up to look over the wall….and there, walking down the middle of the street, shooting as he walked, came Clay. No one in front of him ever saw his back. He saw them, he dropped them.

"The hell that kid using to shoot with?" Brock muttered. "Jesus."

"Don't think he means to leave anyone alive." Sonny breathed, watching Clay deliberately take head shots.

"OH YEAH!" Ray crowed. "And that's WHY we wanted that kid!"

Yeah, they were all dead-accurate shooters. Bravo, the team of shooters – unofficial snipers. But Clay Spenser had an uncanny ability to walk and aim and shoot and hit whatever, wherever he aimed. He simply didn't miss. If there was a man on Bravo other than Ray who could be classified as an actual sniper, it was the man coming at them, stepping over bodies, rather than around.

"I told him to stay in the Humvee." Jason groused, taking aim to cover Clay's back. His job now was to make sure no one appeared behind Clay. "Damn kid never listens."

When Jason had told his team about Mandy's favor, they'd agreed without hesitation to go round up her informant. They wanted to know who had attempted to take her and jumped Brock to do it. Clay had asked for permission to accompany them and after much discussion, Jason, Eric and Ray had agreed to allow him to go along for the ride. He was to stay in the Humvee…..not leave it. For any reason. At all.

"I mean, you even cracked the window for him." Brock snarked. "Why didn't he just drive down here?"

"I have the keys." Ray confessed. "No time to hot-wire it…faster to walk."

"Hell," Trent said. "I'm taking the kid out for lobster."

"He's going to run hills for disobeying." Jason muttered, holding his aim steady. "Christ, how many are out there?"

"I'll do his runs for him." Sonny offered.

Gimpy from running and jumping and falling he may be, there was nothing wrong with Clay's balance or aim. Bodies too numerous for Jason to count from his current position lay in the street and no one else was firing at them.

"Boss?" Clay called out, gun on his shoulder, finger on the trigger, eye still aimed down the barrel. "Anyone see anybody? Call it out." He fired before any of his team could respond. The body dropped from a doorway and Clay started walking towards them. "Boss?"

The ground exploded.

Sand and gravel kicked up, cinder block and limestone created a cloud of dust as the nearby walls of buildings shuddered and shook. The explosion came from behind Clay, some distance from where the team still huddled on their knees behind the wall where they'd taken refuge, but it still rained rubble and debris down upon their bare heads.

"NO!" the team of five screamed as one. "CLAY?!"

Despite the danger by exposing themselves, they watched in horror as their youngest was blown off his feet, thrown forward a good distance. His head hit the ground first, his forehead taking the force of his weight, snapping his head back violently before the rest of his body thudded to the ground on his chest. The impact dislodging his rifle from his hand and sending it airborne. He went down and he stayed down. No movement.

"CLAY!" Jason surged forward. Brock and Trent grabbed hold and grappled to hold him back.

Ray, who had the most ammo remaining, was on his feet and running towards the doorway they believed the grenade had been thrown from. That was one more man who definitely wouldn't live to see dusk.

Jason covered him.

"ERIC?" Sonny keyed his comm. Davis and protocol be damned. _**"ERIC!**_ " he bellowed frantically.

"Uh, Bravo Three?" it was Lisa who replied. She didn't have a drone up for over-watch coverage. Hell, the team was in civilian clothes, out on a simple stroll to find an informant. Footage hadn't been required until Jason had keyed in requesting armed ground support because they'd come under fire.

But she had satellite coverage now, and she was waiting for ground to arrive. She and Eric had watched until Eric had stepped out to take a phone call from DC.

"EVAC! NOW!"

Lisa motioned for one of the people standing around her to fetch Eric with haste. Four of them fled the trailer. EVAC, in Bravo lingo, meant send a chopper capable of carrying the entire team.

"Bravo Three, repeat?" Lisa felt dread curl in her stomach, wished Eric would hurry back. Christ, he couldn't have gone far. She stared at the TV screen, avoiding Mandy's eyes, who heard everything Lisa did.

"Don't fuck with me Davis."

She didn't take offense, didn't get upset or angry. Something was seriously wrong.

"Ground is….." she began.

"Intel was bullshit." Brock keyed in. "Ambushed, under fire, grenade ground blast, EVAC us the fuck out of here!"

Lisa blinked. That from Brock? The man of few words when in combat?

"Send medics." Trent added.

Her first thought wasn't Clay, though it should have been, because he'd been left in the Humvee. She considered Brock, but his arm had been healing without complications and he was cursing in her ear, so…..that left Ray and Jason, neither of whom had joined the conversation.

"Stand by." She said helplessly. She had neither the authority nor the access codes to order EVAC for retrieval. Hell, Eric was on the phone now with DC because he'd authorized ground support to respond to the team's distress call when there'd been no official mission. Where the hell _was he_?

"Davis?" And Eric was coming through the door, the four people who'd fled in search of him, on his heels. She nearly jumped to her feet and hugged him, only catching herself once she was actually standing. "The hell's going on?" Four personnel had just appeared out of nowhere, waving frantically at him, making motions towards the door. One had pushed him, one had pulled on his arm, one had smacked the phone from his hand. "I wasn't finished my call with…."

She shrugged, shaking her head. "Bravo three, four, five are communicating. Requesting EVAC." She swallowed hard. "Bravo four asked for medics."

"Trent's requesting medics?" Eric repeated, reaching for the phone. He didn't ask any questions, didn't ask to speak to Sonny or Trent, just picked up the phone, made a call, ordered an immediate departure of an EVAC chopper staffed with medics, gave the command code proving his authority to do so and hung up. He took the receiver from Lisa and keyed in.

"Bravo four?"

"Here." Trent responded instantly.

"What we looking at?" Eric asked calmly, though he felt anything but calm. "EVAC is in the air, key in their frequency, give them direct coordinates. Davis will get it for you."

"Roger that." Sonny replied.

"Ground will reach you first." Lisa said.

"Too late." Trent sighed.

"How bad?" Eric asked.

"Dunno, can't get to him yet. Blown off his feet from a ground blast, hit head first, hasn't moved."

"Alive?" Lisa asked weakly. Head first? No helmet?

"Unable to confirm." Trent answered.

"Everyone else alright?" Eric asked, hand in his hair.

"Affirmative."

"Do you have control of the situation?"

"Negative."

"Can you get it?" Eric pressed.

"Working on it."

But they wouldn't get it until ground support arrived.

"Bravo four," Lisa keyed back in. "Can you confirm…..um…one? Or two?"

Eric held up all fingers on his left hand and his right thumb. Lisa shook her head. Couldn't be Spenser, Jason had ordered him to remain in the Humvee!

"Six." Trent responded.

"Ground is two minutes out." Eric watched the TV monitor showing the progress of the Humvees and convoy truck. "Chopper in seven."

"Be advised, not safe to land." Ray joined in.

"Will be by the time they get here." Sonny promised.

***000***

"DON'T MOVE HIM!" Trent bellowed from the depths of somewhere behind Jason. "JASON! DO NOT MOVE HIM!"

Jason, already at a full run, stopped so abruptly, the weight of his gun slung over his shoulder propelled him forward and he crashed hard onto his knees, palms bracing his fall, skidding out from underneath him by the force with which he hit the cracked pavement. The road rash stung like a bitch, he wore no gloves, but he used his hands to push up off his knees onto his toes, right foot slipping in the gravel as he scrambled forward, desperate to reach the kid's side, feel for a pulse.

Instinct, training, desire all made Jason want to scoop him up off the ground and drag him to safety, but Trent was still yelling at him. Clay could easily have a severe neck or back or spine injury….the way he'd flown off the ground, the height, the distance….the force he'd landed with…he hadn't landed on his chest or back, but his head…...the way he hadn't moved….still hadn't moved….all pointed to a bad injury….if not outright death.

Jesus Christ, the kid still wasn't moving. Jason had to _know_ if he was breathing.

Anger warred with concern.

If the kid had stayed where Jason had told him to, he'd be fine, he wouldn't be hurt, wouldn't have been blown up.  
If the kid had stayed where Jason had told him to, the Alive Five of Bravo would be alive no more.

They should have left the kid on base. But Jason wanted - needed Mandy and Clay to get along. This was on him, because he wanted his way….he always did, but Clay….man, that kid…..

Crab-crawling forward at a rapid pace, raising yet another cloud of dust, Jason reached Clay's side and went flat on his stomach. Ground support had arrived, coming in strong and fast in armored vehicles, the two mounted .50 cal's reducing every door and wall in the vicinity to rubble, the dust choking the air. The only wall that still stood was the one which Sonny, Brock and Trent, now Ray, still crouched behind, identified by a miniature American Flag on a stick waving proudly above.

Communication was impossible. The gunshots and blasts all around him rendered Jason's ears incapable of hearing. He might not hear Trent any longer but he obeyed his orders…..he didn't move Clay, just reached with two fingers to feel for a pulse in the kids neck.

More dirt and dust kicked up around him and Trent skidded in on his knees, reaching to pull Jason's hand back before he even came to a stop.

"Let me!" Trent shouted. If the kid still breathed, it was because before leaving the Humvee, he'd taken the time to don both a vest and a helmet…he'd even buckled the chin strap. Holding Jason still by a simple touch on his arm, Trent gingerly felt for a pulse in Clay's wrist, too scared to risk touching his neck.

With all the clouds of dust and kicked up dirt, the ground vibrating and shaking beneath his knees, Trent couldn't get a pulse, let go of Jason and held his palm in front the kid's mouth and nose.

"He's not moving!" Jason yelled. "Tell me _IF_ he's breathing! Trent? Tell me DAMMIT!"

Trent's reaction was all Jason needed to know that Clay was alive. Trent grabbed him in a bear hug, holding tight for a second before going up on his knees and raising both hands over his head with his thumbs up…the sign, the signal to the other Bravo's that their rookie was alive. Whether or not they could see his extended thumbs through the clouds of dust, they would see his raised arms. It would have to be enough.

"Thank God!" Jason shouted, hugging Trent right back.

"Thank that helmet!" But on his knees, ass on his ankles, in the dust, Trent bowed his head in prayer.

Alive, but in what condition? Hurt how badly? Alive didn't mean okay.

The remaining minutes before the chopper arrived where a blur. Ray, Sonny and Brock had joined Jason and Trent and the unit of five stood guard over their fallen teammate, leaving ground support to secure the area and collect bodies. Jason willingly gave command to the leader of Bravo's Tier Two unit, not even bothering to show an interest.

It felt like forever, but was in fact mere minutes and Clay had yet to move. The desire to kneel and touch was strong, but because Trent resisted, so did the others. While Trent paced, the others stood and stared at Clay, mentally ordering him to wake up, sit up, grin at them and say 'hey, I'm fine, why's everyone so glum'.

But he didn't wake up. He didn't move.

The chopper arrived, landed, the medics hit the ground at a run, three of them. They came straight to Trent.

"Load up." Jason ordered his men. He'd lost Trent to the medics, was content to let him go. If the team wanted to remain with Clay, they would have to do so quietly and stay out of the way. The chopper would take them all back to base…..no way would Eric send EVAC and not expect them all to want to go.

It took longer than Jason was happy with to load Clay onto a stretcher but he didn't dare hurry them along. Moving him was a delicate process. Bravo was already on the chopper when the three medics and Trent carried Clay to join them. By the time they got there, Jason had guilted himself into a mess of nerves; it pissed him off this was one thing, one time, one instant he couldn't fix. Make right.

Jason swallowed hard, Ray cursed, Sonny couldn't even look, Brock stared teary-eyed. Seeing one of their own like this was beyond a kick in the teeth, a kick in the gut…..secured to a back board, strapped into a basket, his neck in a collar, his head immobilized, oxygen mask….the basket was loaded onto the chopper, strapped and buckled into place and they lifted off.

Ray held up two hands, Trent nodded. Ray pointed to his arms, Trent nodded. Ray waggled all eight fingers, twiddled his thumbs. Trent nodded. Ray pointed to each foot. Trent nodded. Ray frowned, pointing to his shins, knees. Trent nodded. Ray spread his hands in a WTF gesture. Trent nodded.

Now Brock and Sonny were looking at him, Jason was staring out a window, lost in his own thoughts.

Trent nodded, giving them the thumbs up signal again. Yes, Clay remained in possession of all his limbs. No visible injury. No blood. Beyond that, Trent simply didn't know.

***000***

They landed on the roof of a city hospital. Eric, Lisa and Mandy met them in the hallway after the doors closed in their faces and they could no longer follow the gurney transporting Clay.

"Talk to me." Eric said. "You alright? Everyone?" he stared at four, dirty, sweat-streaked faces. "Do any of you need to see a doctor?"

"Not everyone," Brock stared at Mandy, "Is alright."

"What'd I do?" She asked, perplexed.

"This is the 2nd time your intel has been bullshit." Brock pointed out. "Please, talk a walk, round up an informant for me. Keep it hush-hush, I don't have the authority to send you. Those words sound at all familiar?"

"Hey," Eric frowned. "Not fair Brock. Back off."

"Two times in two days isn't fair." Brock shot back. "Wanna try for three? We have - had - a raid tomorrow night."

"Now's not the time." Eric said, patting Brock on the back, squeezing his shoulder. "Gotta come down off this combat high first, then things will start to make sense."

"Dunno." Sonny spoke up. "Brock might be onto something. No over-watch. You not in command. Delay in ground support being granted permission to come to our aid. Just hang us out to get our heads blown off in civies."

"I did not, would not, ever willingly put you guys in any danger." Mandy protested. "Jason?"

"Someone did." Brock turned his back, and with Sonny, moved away. Seeing a vending machine, they moved off to satisfy Brock's sweet tooth, didn't wait to see if their boss had their backs.

Jason sat off by himself, head back against the wall, eyes closed, fingers locked, wrists on his thighs, feet on his toes, knees bouncing….. yeah, no one was going to get anywhere near him for a while.

So, it was Ray who responded.

"They're just out of combat Mandy, nearly killed and we had nothing but a grenade in our pocket and a single clip in our guns." he held his hands out. He wasn't in any mood to be reasonable either. "We may have just watched Clay die, you don't get to plead your case right now."

"Guys, it's going to be hours. Go back to base, shower, change, get something to eat, nap for a bit, then come back. I hear anything, I'll call." Eric said. "Lisa can drive you back."

"Leave?" Sonny echoed Brock's objection. They hadn't gone far. "You're not getting me out of here, 'less you carry my unconscious ass."

"No one is coming through that door for hours." Trent said, joining them. He'd come first off the chopper, carried the basket out with the medics, placed it on the gurney and ran with it while the hospital staff led the way.

He accepted the hugs offered by Brock and Sonny, clung a moment longer than necessary, then came to stand before Jason, who didn't move.

"Is he awake?" Ray demanded. "Any movement? Anything?"

Trent blew his breath out. "He, uh, hasn't come around, but…" he paused as everyone looked at him. He ran his dirty hands through his hair, streaking his forehead with more dirt. "He squeezed my hand back when we were loading him up. Nothing on the flight though. Nothing since we landed."

"You sure?" Ray asked. "Not just hopeful, wishful thinking?"

"I'm sure."

"So, that's good, right?" Sonny said.

"Dunno." Trent had to be honest. "Could mean he's not paralyzed. Could mean he is from the waist down. Could mean he's stunned and didn't know the medics. Could mean nothing….." he trailed off. "He never opened his eyes, so I dunno how he'd know he didn't know the medics but, I just….I just get the feeling he did. Know that is."

"Gut feeling?" Jason pushed. They were all familiar with Trent's gut feelings. Went with them, depended on them, acted on them, would never doubt them.

"I dunno Jace."

Jace. Not Jason, not Jay. So, Trent was emotional, upset, scared.

"I've said it before, I'll always say it…..that kid needs to be with someone he knows and trusts." Trent accepted a bottle of water from Brock, sat down. "Dunno if he's going to remember any of this, but we will." he held the bottle, screwed and unscrewed and screwed and unscrewed the cap. "I don't like that he's still unconscious. A blast like that…we've all been blown off our feet before. Hell, he should be full of shrapnel."

"You're saying he's not?" Ray asked with a frown. "What sense does that make?"

Trent shrugged.

"Why don't you guys go back to base, shower, clean up, get something to eat." Eric suggested again. "Not really the thing to do, hang around here."

"No." Sonny replied instantly. "I bet you aren't leaving, are you?"

"Soon as we know something, anything." Ray said. "Unless that was an order?"

Eric sighed, cursed, hung his head in defeat.

"You know, alive or dead. Paralyzed. Head injury, brain trauma." Brock paced.

"Trent, back to your gut feeling." Jason regained control of the conversation. "Talk to me."

Trent shook his head, getting his teams hopes up based on a feeling he got simply because Clay squeezed his hand after the kid heard his voice only to have them dashed by the doctors, wasn't something he could tolerate right now.

"Trent, you know that kid like no one else. You can tell when he's in pain or hurt or sick." Jason said down next to him, bumped shoulders. "My hearts in my mouth, my stomach is forcing its way out. I break out in sweat just thinking where we'd be if he hadn't come, if he hadn't been wearing a helmet, if he'd hesitated just once, if he hadn't shot to kill, if he'd cared they were kids….I want to bang my head against the wall, punch it until my fist breaks….so whatever it is you're feeling, whatever you're thinking, just tell me."

Trent's knee bounced, nerves most likely, and he played with the bottle of water. Jason was patient, giving him time. Yeah, he was putting a lot on Trent's shoulders, but he – they – wanted to know what Trent thought, because it mattered. It did.

"When I saw him blow up, my first thought was, he's missing a leg, when I saw him land, it was he broke his neck. When we couldn't get to him, it was, he's going to bleed out, or move and fuck himself up. But...we reach him, and I feel for a pulse, wait to feel him breathe, and he's alive, has two legs, and I can't find blood on him…we hold and lift and turn him over and put him down on his back, strap him in. No shrapnel, no wounds. I dunno, I expected something." Trent set the bottle down and ran both hands through his hair. "And I'm thinking, he's just knocked unconscious. But he hasn't come around yet. The doctor was tight-lipped. I don't like that."

"You think it's bad?" Lisa stood across the room, back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. "Life altering bad?"

"I think…" Trent picked up the bottle and took a drink. "I think it's not going to be what we're all thinking."

"I'll say it. I think he's paralyzed." Ray said. "Broke his neck or his spine….."

"Traumatic brain injury." Brock spoke up. "Bleeding or swelling."

"I'm thinking Earnhardt." Mandy said quietly.

Everyone stared at her.

Trent shook his head, giving her ponytail a soft yank. "Internal decapitation." He told the others. "He'd be dead Mandy, death would be instant."

"No way to survive it?" Mandy asked.

"Well, yeah, but…no, not in this case."

"I'm saying surgery, months – years of PT, career over." Sonny banged his head. "Christ, I fucking hate this."

Trent pushed to his feet. "I'm thinking he knew me."

"What are you saying?" Eric asked.

"He squeezed my hand. He's not paralyzed." Trent held Jason's gaze. "And if he knew me, his brains aren't scrambled."

It was something for his teammates to grab hold and hang on to for dear life. These next several hours were going to the hardest of their lives. And that included losing Nate, the trip back to base, the flight home, the funeral, packing up his house, seeing his family off when they relocated.

"When is that quack coming out?" Sonny demanded. "Someone, anyone. Jesus."

"Tests take time Sonny. Cat scans, MRI's, X-rays…it's gonna be hours." Eric said. "They're gonna be thorough."

"I'll get some sandwiches. Any requests?" Mandy asked.

"No salami." Ray wrinkled his nose.

"Mustard, not mayonnaise." Brock said. "Cookies."

"Coffee." Jason was pacing.

"Gatorade." Eric said. "For all, don't need anyone dehydrating on me."

"I'll come with you." Lisa said. "Get them to wash up." She muttered to Eric on her was past.

"I'll try."

But Eric didn't have to. Once the girls had gone, the guys split on their own, going off to find soap and hot water. No one brought up leaving the hospital again, taking comfort in being near one another even if they didn't talk.

Jason was basically unapproachable; he, more than anyone, kept to himself, sitting near the others, yet off by himself. Ray could only image what was going through his boss's head but even he knew better than to approach. Jason would have to work through this on his own.

Ray and Eric both knew Jason was processing, accepting, planning on how to move forward. They couldn't help him with that. He wouldn't break, he'd gotten through losing Nate, he'd get through this too. The question was, would Clay?

The team doc came for them and Eric talked all but Jason into letting him tend their cuts and scrapes, clean them up a bit better, while the girls were out getting something to eat.

"Jason." Eric began. He knew it was useless, but had to try anyway. Jason wouldn't see to his own comfort until he knew something about Clay.

"I washed up, I'm fine."

"Your hands?"

"Road rash."

"They'll have an antiseptic to take the sting out."

"I'm good."

The girls returned with hoagies, chips, cookies and Gatorade, coffee for anyone who wanted it. The guys roused to eat, each thinking their own thoughts. Conversation was limited, no one had much to say. There was a time when they wouldn't have hung out in a hospital, awaiting word on a teammate. There was a time Eric wouldn't have allowed it.

But here they all sat…'cause this was Clay…..this was their kid….….and they never knew what to expect with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Oh no! So sorry you guys! My bad!  
> Didn't mean I wasn't going to finish this story….it is done….just fixing grammar, punctuation, etc.  
> I meant, no other ideas have popped into my head for another story…..it will…..never fear, I'm not going anywhere!

 

Mandy slept on Ray's shoulder, Lisa was curled up against Sonny, Trent and Brock sat shoulder to shoulder…..Jason sat alone…..he didn't seek comfort or accept it like the others did…but when Eric sat down somewhat across from him, lounging back in the chair, Jason accepted his presence. Eric had expected Jason to get up, take a walk, not come back, but when his team chief just sat, his knees eventually ceasing to bounce, Eric got comfortable.

Finally, after what felt like three days, and was in fact, _all night,_ the doors slid open and a team of hospital staff came through.

And proceeded to speak in what might as well have been a foreign language using English words because no one but Trent understood a word they were saying: Medical jargon, multi-syllable words no normal human being could pronounce – and every person in the waiting room had first aid training – such as, but not limited to: ischial tuberosity, ischiofemoral impingement, neither of which, according to Trent, had anything to do with head, neck or spine; tetraplegia, Atlanto-occipital dislocation, cerebrospinal, cerebral edema - no translation from Trent required; though why, swelling of the brain couldn't be said, was beyond Sonny. Pulmonary contusion, laceration...Sonny fumed, what the fuck was wrong with saying: lung, bruise, tear.

Jason's head came up, but otherwise, he didn't react. He lowered his hands, balanced an elbow on his knee and cupped his chin.

And now the doctor, who had introduced himself as Dr. Dhar was telling them something about concussion related brain injury and the inability to rule out aneurysm and stroke, visual impairment, myringa etymology, cholesteatoma...

"Whoa, wait a minute, hold on, time-out." Jason made the time-out signal with his hands. He'd yet to get up, too tired to even stand at the moment. "We are beat, scared, pissed off, so one more time. Like we're five." He turned to his team doc who had come out with the hospital staff. "Small words, one syllable, speak slowly, just you. If I look to Trent to help me understand, give him time to get it through my thick head, 'cause right now, I can't tell you what 2 plus 2 is, got me?"

"No swelling in the brain, no signs of bleeds, no nerve damage to his spine, neck not broken." The team doc said. "Breathing on his own without assistance. Blood pressure, heart rate normal. His e _yes_ do respond to light and he's still unconscious, so it's too early to tell if his hearing has in anyway been affected."

"Muscle still connected to bone? No tendon or ligament damage from landing like he did?" Trent asked the doc. "Shoulder? Elbow? A finger? Anything?"

"Landing?" Lisa questioned. "What do you mean, landing? Land what where?"

"He hit hard Leez." Trent said patiently. "And he took a hard jolt yesterday, so yeah, you get thrown like that, land _that_ hard, like he did on his head, his chest, shaking a muscle off a bone ain't hard to do."

Jason held his hands together behind his neck. "Is he paralyzed?" he pushed to his feet. It was a harder move than he thought it would be. Huh, he was stiff and sore. If he felt like this, so did his men…they needed hot showers, a good soak and bed. These god-damn chairs they'd been sitting in all night were worse than the rubber nets ones on the plane. Yeah, well…not happening anytime soon. "Doc?" He stretched his arms over his head, wincing when his back cracked.

"Hang on." Mandy stood up. "Is he in surgery? Or is he out? Did he come through it okay?"

"Far as we can tell, not even a dislocated shoulder," the doc answered Trent. "He's not, but he hasn't woken up yet." He was now talking to Jason. "We'll know more when he does and can talk to us." He now turned to Lisa. "No, he's not in surgery, he hasn't had any surgery, they are settling him in a room and then you can go see him if you want."

" _IF_ we want?" Jason repeated in a tone that made Dr. Dhar blink. That tone was lethal. "Oh yeah, _WE_ want."

"He's in a coma?" Sonny pounced.

"I didn't say that," doc objected. Keeping up with these men made his head spin.

"You just said he hasn't woken up." Sonny protested.

"He hasn't." the doc frowned, what was up Sonny's ass? "I said when he wakes up….."

"When will that be?" Brock asked. "Trent?"

"You can't tell if he's paralyzed if he's sleep?" Sonny argued. "Trent?"

"He's not paralyzed." Trent shared a sigh with the doc.

"So, he _is_ in a coma?" Ray pressed. "Trent?"

The doc sighed, gathering his patience. Poor Trent. No matter what the doctors said, these guys were only going to accept what Trent thought, what he said. But, hell, he'd try anyway. This shouldn't be on Trent.

"He's yet to show signs of waking up on his own and they haven't tried to bring him out of unconsciousness. The doctors feel his body is doing what it needs to." The doc responded before Trent could. "That in no way means he's in a coma!" he quickly added when Ray, Sonny and Brock frowned and thought to argue. "He's going to have a headache, his forehead is bruised, some swelling, but there is no sign of concussion, no sign of any internal head trauma…..again, we will know more when he wakes up."

"Probably later today before he does," Trent answered Ray. He hesitated, but only added. "We can break heads then if he doesn't."

"If he wakes up. The longer he remains unconscious…" began some doctor in a heavy accent. So, Jason thought, back against the wall, thumbs holding his eyelids closed, elbows together on his chest - a 'don't fuck with me' position, one of the hospital doctors. Blah, blah, blah, the man went on using words Jason couldn't wrap his head around. "…..function and activity of the brain…" and blah, blah, blah.

"So, what are you saying?" Brock turned to their doc. "What does he mean? Clay's in a coma? He might never wake up? You just said he wasn't." he was standing next to Trent. "Are you saying he's a vegetable? If he ever _does_ wake up, he'll never be right? Trent?"

"Trent," echoed Sonny, Ray, Lisa...Mandy...Jason.

The team doc looked helplessly at Eric….how on earth had Brock jumped to that conclusion?

"No Brock," Trent cut in, showing an attitude the doc was unfamiliar with. "He's not in a vegetative state." he understood what the doctors were saying and Jason understood that Trent didn't like it or agree with it. "He's just...he hasn't woken up _yet_. But he will."

"And you are who? You think you know more than me? An educated doctor from your United States, Johns Hopkins University? I beg to differ." Dr. Dhar said disdainfully.

Oh boy...Eric thought...best tread carefully there Dr. Dumb...these men are on the edge. They know how to attack.

"If he's in a room, we'd like to see him now." Eric said, trying to divert tension and emotions. He could see Jason was really getting pissed off with Dr. Dhar who was now in Trent's face.

Everyone stood or sat silently. Because if they understood correctly, now it became, how would Clay be mentally when he woke up? Or, according to Dr. Dhar – _if_ he woke up?

"Just one of you." One of the hospital staff spoke up, glaring at Eric. "You can look through the observation window." Like Dr. Dhar, mostly likely the trauma surgeon, the man spoke English, his accent heavier.

"View him through a _fucking_ window?" Sonny was pacing, stopped, turned ever-so-slowly. "Say that again."

And Eric glared right back. "You run this hospital, not these men, that's my job." He blindly put out a hand to stop Sonny's stalking of the man who had unwisely suggested they 'view Clay through a window'.

The doc nodded. "Look in on him, then go get back to base, get a hot shower, settle in with a beer." he said. "There's no harm in letting them see him." He addressed Dr. Dhar who so far, had done all the talking and was not at all happy to have the team doc side against him.

The doc could make the suggestion to leave as many times as he wanted to, no one was going anywhere unless and until Jason gave the order.

"Fuck that shit, gonna need the whole god-damn keg." Sonny muttered.

"I'm not leaving." Trent stated. Oh, he dared anyone to order him to leave, try and make him.

"If he starts to come around, we'll sedate him." Dr. Dhar said. Oh, was he going to have words with the hospitals government contact about this American doctor, these men. "His body needs to rest, heal. No need for you to stay here."

"Yeah, no." Trent shook his head. "Don't do that. You're not sedating him."

Dr. Dhar fell silent, momentarily stunned to be questioned, challenged, ordered what not to do, by a mere soldier. "I beg your pardon? You are not a surgeon, nor a doctor. This is my hospital, he is my patient, I will treat him as I see fit and nothing you say or threat is going to change that fact. We need him to remain calm and still. If he starts to come around, it won't be because he's coming out of unconsciousness. I can't have him thrashing or fighting us."

"Bullshit. When he wakes up, he won't fight you and if you try and restrain him, I'll break your fucking fingers." Trent snapped.

"Now Trent," Eric began.

"I'll stay with him." Trent insisted. "He doesn't come out of sedation or anesthesia well. Will take him longer to wake up, comes out of it puking, groggy and confused. Our doc knows that." he looked away, searching out Jason's direct gaze, conveying a message only Jason understood. "We're not leaving him here alone." he stated, his look, his stance, his fisted hands dared anyone to argue with him.

"Who here is in charge?" Dr. Dhar demanded.

"That would be me." Eric replied. "Problem?"

"I am ordering you to control these men." Dr. Dhar said firmly. "I will call security, that would be more of your American Soldiers, and have all of you removed. I will not tolerate threats."

"Try it." Jason challenged.

"Jason, we know that kid. There is no reason he shouldn't be awake. None." Trent pleaded his case to his boss. "I'm telling you, he has that ability 1 percent of humans world-wide has, he can disassociate from reality, mentally separate, and he's not going to respond until he feels safe and secure." He curled a lip in a sneer at Dr. Dhar. "And he doesn't feel that here."

"We disagree." Came the counter-argument from Dr. Dhar and before the man could launch into reasons why, Jason shut him down with a palm to his face. The disgruntled doctor settled for; "There is no such ability."

"I don't believe what you're telling us." Trent stood his ground, hands on hips, feet firmly planted shoulder-width apart. "He's not in a coma, there's nothing wrong with his brain activity or function. He will wake up and when he does, he won't be a drooling veggie." Oh boy, Eric was familiar with that stance….it was the adopted 'Jason Hayes is going to throw a punch' stance. "I know that kid better than you and he's not waking up because you're scaring the shit out of him." Trent continued. "I don't like you and I don't like the way you're handling this."

"He is showing no response to touch, speech, light, noise, smell." one of Dr. Dhar's associates spoke up. "No motor functions."

"Then let me do it." Trent cast a pleading look first at Jason, then at Eric. "We can pull him back Jason. We can. I'm not saying he can't slip into a coma, fade away, go deep where there's no pain, he can, he's capable...but he won't if he knows we're there with him. He'll come back for us...to us...believe me."

If Jason understood Trent correctly, despite what Dr. Dhar said, there was no medical reason why Clay hadn't woken up yet. According to Trent, it was because, Clay didn't want to….because he didn't know where he was or who he was with and felt safer remaining unconscious. Dr. Dhar disagreed.

"Doc?" Jason waited. "Wanna weigh in here?"

No, no I don't, thought doc. Oh, no way was he going to give an opinion. Nope, not with this bunch of stressed out, wild-eyed, sleep-deprived, uh, men waiting to pounce on anyone who gave them news they didn't want to hear. If he dared to go ahead and give what he thought voice, and it wasn't what good ole Jason Hayes wanted to hear…..gulp.

"What's going on?" Ray asked, arm around Sonny. "I don't understanding whatever the hell you're all taking about. Is the kid comatose or not?"

Aww, to hell with it…..the team doc just up and sat down. Picked up a stale cookie, warm bottle of Gatorade, crossed an ankle over his knee. There was no need for him to argue or disagree with Dr. Dhar….not when he had both Jason Hayes and Eric Blackburn to do it for him.

"If you think you know more than these trauma surgeons, by all means, tell them what you would do." The doc smirked at Dr. Dhar. He might not have much say or any authority in this hospital, but then, these doctors had never dealt with these Bravo men circling when one of their own was wounded.

"Back off, leave him alone, he can understand every word you're saying." Trent turned to Eric. "Authorize his transfer back to base, let our doc take care of him there."

"Uh." Eric stammered.

"They aren't doing anything for him here, we can't on base." Trent pointed out.

"Uh." Eric stammered.

"No one here has the authority to remove that soldier from this hospital." Dr. Dhar said. "It is not going to happen, I won't allow it. He will get the care he needs here, the best care he can be given. Now, if you don't calm down and become reasonable, you won't be allowed to see him."

"Who's going to stop us from seeing him?" Jason jabbed a fingers in the doctor's chest. "You? 'Cause we are not doing this. We're not. No one, no one here, _not you_ , is going to keep me or any of my men away from that kid." he stepped forward, going nose-to-nose with the doctor who, along with his staff, stepped back. "If my medic says the kid isn't getting the care he needs here, then we're taking him back to the base hospital and I'd like to see you try and stop me."

Eric re-grouped.

"Whoa! Okay there." Eric was between Jason and Dr. Dhar. "Here now, Jason, why don't you and Trent go see the kid, okay? Let me talk to the doctors. Ray, little help here," he had his hands full with an irate Sonny, pissed-off Jason and balls-to-the-wall Trent, who was not backing down from his argument with Dr. Dhar.

Ray shouldered Jason back, wedged between his commander and his boss. Good God, in his present state of mind, Jason would be uncontrollable he went and started swinging at the dumbass doctor. That was all Ray needed, Jason taken away, locked up, arrested...whatever.

"Hey, not helping here Jay." Ray pushed his boss back, let Eric deal with Dr. Dhar and Trent. "Enough! Stand down! We need you to back Trent up, not go all half-cocked raging batshit...you hearing me?"

Jason waited. Trent made sense but Jason didn't have the authority to give him what he wanted. This hospital might be local, but if their security were US soldiers, then it was run by the US government. Hell, the kind of authority needed to transfer Clay might even be above Eric.

"I'll call McCall, see where we stand." Eric told Trent. "Go see him, take Jason with you."

***000***

Jason expected a halo brace or at least a neck brace, machines, wires, tubes, needles, monitors….at least a finger clip, oxygen or blood pressure cup, something, anything, but nope, nothing. Clay was on his back, by all appearances, merely asleep.

The cuts and scrapes and scratches on his cheeks and neck and hands had been tended, sported a butterfly Band-Aid here and there, a few stitches closed a gash over his right eye where the helmet had made contact with the ground when he'd landed, but otherwise, nothing.

"He gets blown up," Jason leaned on the bedrails. "And we look worse than he does. Jesus Christ, how the fuck does he do it?"

"Blast was behind him."

"Yeah, well…but….."

"We weren't hit with shrapnel either." Trent pointed out. "Dunno what the hell they threw, but it blew a huge hole in the ground, crumbled walls."

"Threw him like a rag doll." Jason finished. "That's for forensics to figure out. This here, he's our problem."

"Ain't he always?" Trent grinned. "I dunno Jay, he should be dead. Everything the guys think or said, is valid. Hell, his bones should be dangling loose in his skin, he should flop like Cerberus's stuffed squirrel and surgery not required? Not even a dislocated finger? The fuck's that shit?"

"What'd'ya mean?" Jason yawned, eyeballing the recliner. Oh yeah, he could sleep comfy in that.

"Bone and muscle should have detached from bone, landing like he did…..tore ligaments, tendons, something…..he's got one hell of a hard head." Trent was feeling for a pulse, snapping his fingers next to Clay's ear, prying open one eye, then the other, squeezing his hand. "He's gonna wake up and hurt like hell."

"You think he's gonna wake up okay?"

"Yup." He rummaged through a medical tray, selected a rubber hammer, pushed aside the blanket, and whacked Clay in the knee. Jason winced at the force behind Trent's whack. Yup, nothing gentle about his medic. Nope. "The flight home is gonna be hard and if you wait until he can go, won't be anytime soon." Nothing, no reaction to either knee whack.

"Months?"

"Oh, sorry…no." Trent shook his head. "Meant, not the day after he wakes up," which was going to be today, goddammit, "...….a week, maybe."

"That ain't so bad." Jason said. "How about once we get home?" no question about it, they would accompany him home.

"That's up to the doctors." Trent answered. "How well he heals, body took a beating, but…week or two, I'd guess." he pulled the blanket back over Clay's knees, exposed his foot. "Alright, you sonofabitch, see how you like this." He thumbed the bruised ankle, applying enough pressure for so long, Jason reached out to stop him.

Week or two? Jason wouldn't be able to close his eyes and sleep for a month; it would take him weeks not to break out in a sweat every time he looked at the kid and Trent was saying the kid would be up and walking, like nothing happened in a week or two? Not fair.

"You understood what those doctors were saying, yet you don't believe a word of it." Jason cupped his chin, elbows on the railing. "You think he's okay."

"He squeezed my hand Jason." Trent looked up, all five toes of Clay's foot in his fist. "He knew I was there, _he knew_ …and yeah, that matters." He closed his hand, applying pressure. "I don't care what that trauma surgeon or whoever the fuck he is, says, the kid squeezed my hand….the doctors don't believe me, but I don't care. He did it. If he hadn't, I wouldn't be so sure, but he did, so I am."

Jason gnawed a cut on a knuckle, wiped the blood on his jeans. The sweat was making his hands sting like a bitch. "I'm not gonna shit for a week." He rubbed his hands through his hair. "He scares the hell outta me, puts all of us through living hell when we can't get to him, don't know if he's alive or dead and he's right in front of us, and you're telling me, in a week or two, he's going on our next mission?"

"You wanted him."

"Ray wanted him." Jason corrected.

Trent chuckled, "So did you."

"How the hell did he manage Tier 3 deployments?" Jason wondered. "Lead those missions? We've had him a matter of months…..terror claws my belly, fear clogs my throat, guilt makes me shake…..how did anyone get him through those deployments?"

"I'm thinking his friend Brian had a lot to do with it."

Jason was quiet. "He lost Brian, gained us."

Trent nodded. "As that loss gets easier for him, he'll settle in. He trusts us now, getting attached to us, but it's not the same depth of trust he had with Brian." He moved the heel of his hand to the bottom of Clay's toes and bent them forward. "Not yet. Let's hope he finds a Ray Perry to his Jason Hayes or he's gonna meet an early death, 'cause one day, he's going to lead a Tier 1 Team and we're all gonna be retired."

Steadily bending toes a way they were never meant to be bent, Trent kept the pressure steady, waiting and watching, his other hand pinching skin near Clay's knee.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked tiredly. His eyes burned, so red and dry they were swollen.

"Waking him up." Trent answered. "Pinch him. Inner thigh."

"Yeah, no. That hurts like a bitch."

"That's the point Jason." Trent grinned. "This leg, pinch, twist, hold it. I can feel him tensing and if he's tensing up, he can feel me, and if he can feel me, he can wake the fuck up."

Jason hesitated. He could be violent and brutal in combat, in a fight, standing his ground. But to deliberately hurt someone to prove a point to some foreign doctor seemed harsh.

"Jason," Trent spoke quietly, pinching Clay's knee hard enough he'd bruise. "If he doesn't wake up, and the doctor calls us in for our behavior, my insistence they don't know they're doing…..we won't win. They can take him away from us, prevent us from seeing him. I don't want that, do you?"

 _Clay was confused, he relied on his senses to guide him but this time, they were determined to remain elusive._ _He_ _felt a slap, light at first, then harder against his cheeks, heard the coaxing lilt, a familiar voice that meant safety and security. A voice he'd been conditioned and trained and ordered to respond to. Knew who it was who was attempting to wake him up but also knew from experience that if he ignored the gentle persuasion, the attempts would quit and he would be left alone. He was comfortable where he was and waking up would result in pain and discomfort, so this was one time Trent would have to deal with his disappointment._

_But, oh man, his toes!_

"No."

"Then help me wake him up."

Jason pinched and held, just about to let go when Clay stirred, trying to pull his foot out of Trent's hand. Trent backed off the pressure on his toes a bit, stopped pinching his knee but motioned for Jason to keep holding tight.

_Uh, Trent, you're supposed to stop and leave me alone. You always do. I want you to. I don't want you to go away, just want you to stop breaking my fucking toes._

"Clay?" Trent called softly. "Hey buddy, you with me? Come on, wake up, let me see those blues. That's it…..yeah, you feel that, don't you? Don't like it, either?" he dropped Clay's foot, moved up the side of the bed to smack him. "Bet you don't. Come on, wake up. Clay? Clay?" he held the kids jaw, shook his head, smacked his cheeks again. "Jason's here. Guys are right outside, you wake up, you can see everyone."

Clay was stirring, head rolling, knees starting to come up, an attempt to dislodge the painful pinch on his leg. Trent motioned for Jason to release his hold and he did, waiting.

_Go away, lemme sleep, I never get enough sleep. Just wanna sleep. Good here. Quiet, peaceful. No one yelling at me, no one telling me what to do, how to do it, what not to do. Just...can't you let me be?_

Trent bit his lip when Clay pulled his head away from the palm cupping his chin, turning his face towards the mattress. Knowing it for what it was, an instinctive move by an unconscious person seeking to remain unconscious, only made Trent more determined to wake him up.

Any movement was good and Trent wanted Clay awake, his eyes focused. Wanted Clay to talk to him, remember what had happened, know where he was and that he wasn't alone. Wanted proof that he was right, that Clay was ok, that the doctors were wrong and Clay wasn't suffering some injury Trent couldn't diagnose.

"Clay? You with me?" Trent covered Clay's hand with one of his own, squeezed his fingers. "Feel that? Huh? I need you to wake up, you don't have to talk to me, just open your eyes. You hurt, I know you do. I'll give you something for that….you handle morphine okay, but first, I need you to wake up."

_I don't hurt. What's going to hurt? I'm awake, I hear you. Just...I like it here._

Jason was sweating, bile burned his throat, he swallowed it down.

"Squeeze my hand Clay." Trent didn't know how much time had passed, but a doctor would be coming in any second now. Didn't matter, he wasn't going until he woke the kid up - no matter how long it took. "Clay, listen to me, you have to wake up. They will take you away from us if you don't. If you want me here, if you want to see Jason, if you want to stay with us, you have got to wake up." He looked at Jason.

Jason wiped his face against his dirty sleeve. His knuckles still bled, he still licked the blood off...he should stop doing that, it soured his stomach. He'd ran his hands through his hair so many times, dried blood caked it. He was dirty and dusty, hadn't done anything more to the cuts and scrapes on his hands and arms and face than wash briefly with hot water.

"You aren't in trouble kid." Jason licked his lips. His mouth was dry, his tongue thick, he should get some water. "Not gonna yell at you for leaving the Humvee."

Trent pinched Clay's thigh in the exact same place Jason had. Jason winced, when the doc had said they hadn't attempted to bring Clay out of unconsciousness, somehow, he didn't think this is what the doc meant. Oh yeah, no doubt, Trent was rough and abrasive. Clay was going to wake up and ask how he got pinch-bruises…and they would tell him. Had it been Nate, well, yeah, wouldn't have been good, they'd have tried to lie to him, keep peace. But Jason knew this kid, knew he would shrug, say 'ow' and that would be it.

"That's it." Trent was saying. Clay eased onto his opposite hip, trying to ease the pressure on the leg Trent was hurting. "Feel that don't you? Want it to stop? Wake up and look at me."

_I hear you but I don't want to, because I don't feel good and if I open my eyes, it's going to hurt – I'm going to hurt – so I ain't gonna and nothing you can say will make me…..so stick that in your pipe and smoke it._

"They're gonna take you away from us." Trent eased off the pressure, thumbing the abused skin, a soothing gesture. "You want that? There's a chain of command here Clay and Eric ain't at the top of it."

_Except maybe that._

"You don't want that to happen, do you?" Jason asked.

_No, no, I don't want that to happen, don't let them take me. I'm good with Trent, honest, no issues._

Trent pinched him again, same spot.

_Stop doing that! It fucking hurts, you asshole!_

"The doctors here say you're in a coma, if you ever wake up, you'll be a drooling idiot. I know better." Trent relaxed his grip then pinched again. "Come on Clay, wake up, prove me right."

Clay hissed.

Jason stood up straight on the rails, alert now.

"Don't like this, do you?" Trent pinched and released, thumbed soothingly, pinched. "You want this to stop, squeeze Jason's hand. Come on Clay."

He squirmed, heels digging into the mattress. He was moving more now, another hiss, but Trent wanted a groan or a moan.

_Owowowowowowowowowow!_

Trent heard the door open behind him. Shit. Not now. They almost had him awake and Dr. Dhar wouldn't approve of Trent's methods.

"It is time to let him rest now." Dr. Dhar said.

"Back off." Trent snapped. "Clay, hey, you're out of time here kid, open your eyes."

"He is restless, involuntary movement." the man held a syringe. "Just a mild sedative to keep him calm."

Trent swiped at the arm holding the needle. "You're not giving him that."

"Yes, I am. Security has been called, will be here shortly to escort you out." the doctor smiled grimly. "And then I will treat my patient."

"Like hell." Trent growled, dropping Clay's hand and lunging towards the doctor.

Jason beat his medic to him.

The doctor was no match for Jason. He didn't even know how to begin evasive movements and Jason had him in a head-lock with one arm, pressure on his wrist so severe the needle dropped from his numb fingers within seconds.

Jason didn't let him go.

"You are making a serious mistake." the doctor was saying as Trent debated whether to run for Eric or stay and protect Clay. 'You will be removed."

Security, or the MP's - four of them - came in, grappled for Jason, struggled with him to release the doctor. They were fellow American Soldiers, Army, but still, in no way did they want to hurt or take down one of their own.

Chaos erupted.

Clay stared at the mass confusion in his room, around his bed, playing out in front of him, wished he could see clearly. He blinked, attempting and failing to bring his eyes into focus.

Dear God.

"Trent?" he groaned, coughing. "Boss?" he cleared his throat. Well, tried to. Someone had fed him sand and dirt and dust without the benefit of something to drink. "Trent?" he tried again.

The room went silent. All activity. All noise. Ceased.

"Clay?"

* * *

One more chapter after this...the flight home...


	5. Chapter 5

Jason dropped the doctor like a too-hot-brick. Released so abruptly, Dr. Dhar fell to his knees and Jason moved around him to lean on the rails opposite Trent.

"Hey." Trent had a penlight, was flashing it into Clay's eye held open by a thumb. "Spenser? You with me?"

"Mmmm." Clay tried to pull away from the light, but Trent held his head still by a firm grip on his chin. "Hmmmmm."

"You don't get to do that." Trent told him. He knew the light made the kid's head hurt, knew the discomfort from the invasive light piercing his optic nerve might make him nauseated, wasn't sure Clay was awake enough to fight it down, but he had to know if the kid could focus his eyes. "Hey, blink...blink...look at me...that's it...good."

Clay squinted, wincing as he again tried to pull away, ducking his chin with a shaky sigh. Trent hesitated then released him. The bruised forehead and stitches, though few, were enough to make the kid up-chuck if he resisted too much and Trent really didn't want him to do that. If the light bothered him, it was enough for Trent to stop. He knew the kid too well.

"Turn the light off." Trent told Jason. No way, did he want to start the kid puking. If that happened, they'd never get his transfer authorized.

Jason obeyed. Overhead lights in the ceiling remained on, but the immediate area around the bed went dim.

"Remove these men immediately." Dr. Dhar ordered the soldiers. "From this room, from this hospital, from these grounds."

"Go ahead, try it." Jason challenged.

"Sorry Chief." The soldier scuffed his toe against the floor. He didn't know Jason or Trent, but their arm patches identified them as Navy Seals and reluctant though they might be to interfere, neither of the Seals out-ranked the superior who had given them orders to obey the hospital staff. "Orders, you know?" but neither he, nor the three men with him made a move.

Jason and Trent were not causing any trouble and the MP's hadn't seen them do anything that warranted immediate removal so they just stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do.

"I have a patient to attend. You are in the way. Allow me to tend him." Dr. Dhar told Trent, motioning at Jason to step away from the bed. "You are not in charge here."

"In a minute." Jason stared the doctor down. "He's waking up and if you think I'm going to let you sedate him, you've got four soldiers to get past to even attempt it."

"Boss." Trent scolded. "Not helping." he took a step back from the bed, allowing Dr. Dhar to step closer. "The doc knows he's waking up, he's not going to try and put him under, are you?"

The doctor shook his head. "No."

()

"Well?" Ray demanded when Eric thumbed disconnect on the sat phone and handed it to Lisa. "What did McCall say?"

Eric rubbed his beard, finger-combed his hair. "He will contact the hospital's government contact. They will meet with you, doc. If you agree, they will authorize Clay's transfer to the base hospital."

The doc gave it some thought. "Basically an infirmary."

"Can he be taken care of there?" Sonny demanded.

"If he wakes up coherent, yes." He paused. "I don't see Mr. Spenser giving me a hard time. For one, Hayes won't allow it and for another, I don't see any of you being far away, should I need help with him."

"You mean, when." Brock corrected. "Trent said he can wake the kid up, he will."

"You boys put a lot of trust in your teammate," the doc mentioned. "Put a lot on his shoulders."

"That's why we went out and got you." Ray said dismissively. "Trent can handle it. One way or another, we all have something just as heavy on our shoulders."

There was a commotion out in the hallway; the overhead paging system crackled with a request they couldn't understand, raised voices were heard, the sound of people moving in response to the page.

"That can't be good." Doc said, getting to his feet.

"Jason." Said everyone else.

"Damn me, what has he gone and done this time?" Eric wondered, hands in his hair. He opened the door to the hallway and yup, four armed MP's jogged by. "STAY!" he ordered everyone. "Lisa, keep them in line."

The doc left with him.

()

Jason cursed, but obeyed Trent to more or less stand down and to stop pissing off the doctor, who for his part, stood slightly back and watched Trent bring Clay awake.

"Clay?" Trent waited, watching Clay struggle with coming out of his stupor. "Clay? Clay, listen to me. I know you can hear me." He was willing to give Clay some time, but time was short and they didn't have a lot of it. "Spenser!"

 _Ho-oh! Last_ _and_ _first name!_ O _kay, I'm listening, just wish you'd stay still while you're talking. Really, do you have to move around so much?_

"You don't feel so good right now, but that's just your body's way of dealing with the trauma. Next time you wake up, you're gonna feel a lot better."

_Stop yakking._

"The doctor here wants to look at you."

_I'm thirsty. My head hurts. Water?_

"MmmmMMmmmMMmm." His eyes remained closed, but his lids quivered, lashes fluttered. His head rolled, turned away from the light across the room, cheek nuzzling the pillow as he attempted to bury his head.

"Hey, no matter how you feel, or what you don't feel, you gotta trust me when I tell you, you're okay. Don't listen to these foreign doctors, okay?"

_Hey, not complaining, but Tent? Yeah, I don't think I feel so good._

Clay's tongue drew his bottom lip between his teeth and he bit it. This was Trent talking and he was saying something he should pay attention to….but the more awake he became, the more confused he was. His chest hurt….. it _hurt._ He thought Sonny was back to playing his stupid pranks and jokes and had piled Kevlar vests on his chest. He wanted them off. He raised a hand to move them, but his arm didn't work. Christ, how many had Sonny piled on? Enough to weigh his shoulders down, make his arms go numb.

_Sonny's a fucking dick. Not funny._

"No, no…..you don't get to sleep." Trent tapped the back of his hand against Clay's cheek when he went limp, letting his chin dip towards his shoulder. "I need you to prove to the doctor you're awake and aware of where you are, who we are…..okay? Can you do that?"

Clay licked at his lips, tongue dry. He tried to shift his weight, but his body wasn't having any attempts at movement. Panic hit hard…..he couldn't move his hands? His arms? His legs?

"Heyheyheyhey…" Trent put a hand on one shoulder, Jason the other. "Easy. We're right here. You feel some pain, I'm sure, but that's a good thing."

Clay hissed, breathing in, breath holding as his eyes widened at the pain that first stabbed his hip, then flared down his leg. His previous panic over his inability to move, had become relief when he realized he wasn't paralyzed, now turned to dismay when he realized that, oh yeah, he could feel pain alright – _he fucking hurt_.

_Yeah, hey Trent? Not a good thing._

"Ow….mmmmm…fu...ck." he groaned, breath hissing through his teeth. "OW."

"Sssh, you're okay." Trent wasn't too happy Clay was coming around so slowly. He was groggy and Trent didn't like that either. "Don't go back to sleep." made him briefly wonder if the doctors had already given him something. "Fight through it. Come on."

"I'm not." He muttered thickly. "Why? I...am...Shit…that…ooooh…..hur…hurts." he tried to pant through a wave of pain, but couldn't take deep enough breaths. "Mmmm…..owwwwwww."

"Yeah, we'll give you something for that. Just relax…you can move, not paralyzed, but you know that." Trent leaned on the rails, grinned down at him. "Cause you hurt, don't you?'

Denied permission to sleep by his team medic, he gave in, gave up, quit. "Hurt?" he licked his lips again, turning his head slightly in search of water. "This is fucking pain Trent…sorry Boss." He lowered his eyes when Jason loomed on his other side. Oh boy, he was in trouble now.

"For what?" Jason asked, hand out behind him to ward off Dr. Dhar from approaching.

"Disobeying." His eyes rolled, chest feeling like it was attempting to press him right through the mattress to the floor. "Leaving…..the Humvee." He wanted to raise a hand, feel for himself there was nothing on his chest, weighing him down. "I heard…gun shots…..couldn't sit there." But nope, neither hand would obey.

"We'll talk about that later." Jason said. "Most, you'll have to run hills, but Sonny offered to do it for you." He cracked a grin. "You can let him do that when Trent takes you out for lobster."

"Everyone…..okay?"

"Everyone is fine, don't worry about us….just dirty…."

Yeah, well, whatever happened, he knew his favored Advil liquid gel-caps were not going to ease this kind of pain.

"Doc, can he have some water?" Trent asked Dr. Dhar, who, momentarily surprised Trent had bothered to ask permission, didn't at first reply.

"Hey!" Jason snapped his fingers. "Talking to you."

"Jay." Trent sighed. "That doesn't help."

"He's just standing there like a…"

Eric and the doc burst into the room.

Eric came through the door, yelling at Jason to cease and desist, to calm down and let go of…...he stumbled to a halt, biting his tongue to shut his mouth when all he saw was Jason leaning on the bedrails, watching Trent try and keep Clay calm, who, now awake, was realizing it hurt too much to move.

"Clay? You're awake? Trent, he's awake?"

Clay blinked up at Eric, recognition slowly dawning and Trent high-fived Jason across the bed. Oh yeah, their kid was awake, able to recognize faces.

"Good God, you did it." The doc said in awe. "Mr. Spenser, welcome back."

Clay blinked, the voice not familiar enough for him to immediately recognize but before he could panic, Trent was holding a cup with a straw to his lips and he forgot all about people he knew but didn't know right now.

"Sips." Trent pulled the straw away, gave Clay a few seconds then offered the straw again, repeating the process until finally letting Clay actually take a full drink. "You with us? Huh? Can you tell me what happened?"

Clay wanted to rub his eyes, push his hair off his forehead but his arms still weren't obeying his commands to move.

"Uh, heard shots…knew there shouldn't be any shooting, went to see…..you guys were pinned down…..I cleared the field…something blew up." He paused. "Medics came, you told me not to move…" Trent was grinning ear to ear, yup, 'cause that was when the kid had squeezed his hand. "Gets kinda hazy…..loud, chopper…."

"You blew up." Jason told him. "Took a fucking year off my life, landing the way you did. Scared the shit outta us," another high-five between Jason and Trent over Clay's bed. Kid wasn't confused at all. Woot!

"That why I hurt?" he spoke slowly with a slight slur, but yeah, he was coherent. "Sonny…..didn't put vests on my chest?"

"Yeah, that's why you hurt. Gonna for a few days. Sorry, can't blame this on Sonny." Trent rubbed his eyes. "The more you start moving around, the better you'll start to feel…..won't hurt as much moving a finger. Tell me how you feel."

"Head hurts."

"Like a headache?"

"Like I whacked my elbow."

Dr. Dhar frowned, the man wasn't making any sense but that blasted meddling medic was nodding in complete understanding.

"Cause you hit it." Trent said. "Or landed on it. Couple stitches right here." He touched the bandage over the few stitches. "It'll ease once you get some sleep."

"We have medication that will help." Doc said. "You did okay on Skelaxin, we can try that again."

"Trent, got the okay to move him, long as doc here says it's okay." Eric said quietly. "You still good with that?"

"Doc will." Jason stated, pushing up off the bedrail. "Won't you?"

"Yeah, you've done enough." Eric snapped at him. "I don't know what you did, but you did it so get out there and tell your men the kid's okay, you got me?"

"I'll go with you." Doc said. "Give Trent and Eric a moment or more to convince Mr. Spenser these doctors mean him no harm, then I'll come back and stay with him while they examine him."

"We can do our examination without your assistance." Dr. Dhar said.

"I don't intend to assist you. I intend to stand right here where he can see me and watch you. He will cooperate much better if someone he knows is with him. You have the authority to demand and get the removal of a medic, but I have the credentials needed to remain and there's nothing you can do about it." Doc put a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Come Master Chief, let's go calm your men down before they forget they're gentlemen and trod all over poor Ms. Davis to get in here."

()

"You didn't miss anything?" Ray demanded. "You're sure?"

"There's always that possibility." The doc admitted. "He's going to sleep most of the time for the next several days, but other than hurting like hell, being sore and stiff, I'm gonna go ahead and confirm what Trent said all along…. he's fine. I'll authorize his transfer back to base. He'll be there by dinner. I do insist he stay in the infirmary until I clear him to fly home…..say, a week? Then, once he's home, depending on how well he handles the flight, I say, seven days before he can fly again."

"That's it? Two weeks? Just like that? He's fine?" Ray stared. "He gets blown up, lands on his fucking _head_ and you're all, eh, he's okay, he'll sleep it off? Are you _**FUCKING**_ kidding me!?"

The doc spread his hands, shrugged. "He has a headache but no concussion. He's in some pain, will start him on an IV to administer an antiemetic in case he doesn't respond well to the pain meds we give him, but, well, I can't explain any of it."

"Do you have any idea what we _thought_? How we _felt_? What we went _through_?" Ray was stunned. "What this day has been like? We don't even remember day becoming night, passing into day, and you're saying, 'cause I wannta get this straight, that because he woke up, he's gonna walk out of here?"

"Well, he'll go on a stretcher, maybe a wheelchair, but that's doubtful. Too soon, I guess. Even for him."

"I'm gonna kill him." Ray fumed. "Where is he? Let me at him!"

"He thinks we smother him now, just wait 'til he tries to breathe through a pillow." Sonny threatened. "See how he feels about us smothering him then."

"He woke up, just like that?" Brock questioned doubtfully. "Trent just went, 'hey Clay, wake up' and he woke up?"

"Tell you what, Jason Hayes stood over my bed looking like that, ordering me to wake the fuck up, I sure as hell would fall into that coma everyone said he was in." The doc waved a hand at Jason, whose appearance; dirty, unshaven, dried blood in his hair, on his face, his hands, cuts, scrapes, abrasions all left untreated, eyes bloodshot and red and dry and swollen; would convince any kid that: yeah, there was a monster under the bed; a troll really did live in the closest; the boogeyman did exist; the sandman being a good fairy was a myth. "But not Mr. Spenser."

Jason scowled.

"You haven't slept in over twenty-four hours." The doc pointed out. "Cat-napping upright in these chairs doesn't count." He added before Jason could say, he had too slept. "You were alert for any noise, any presence entering the room…anyway, I somehow doubt all Trent did was ask him to wake up." He looked pointedly at Jason, who shrugged.

"They wanted him awake, he's awake." Jason wouldn't call Trent out on his methods. He always got results; that was all that mattered.

"Boss?" Ray questioned. "Something we should know?"

"Trent can be rough, you all know that."

"Mean." Sonny corrected.

"They said he wouldn't wake up, he did. They said if he did, he'd be a vegetable, he's not. He's awake, he knows us, Eric said we can take him out of here. Anyone has a problem with Trent, tell me now." Jason waited, dared anyone to argue with him further.

"Why'd you go and say something like that?" Brock demanded. "We're all tired, no one is thinking straight, no need to bite our heads off."

The doc's eyes widened. Challenge the team boss like that? Oh-oh.

But Jason sagged, shoulders slumping, head going down. Mandy moved to hug him and after a moment, he hugged her back, holding tight, chin atop her head as he apologized to his men.

"I'm sorry." He let his eyes close. "Sorry."

The doc dusted his hands. Would he ever figure this team out? Probably, since he'd be with them a lot. Then again, since they were so close to only one another, maybe not. "I'm going back to stay with him, get this examination going. It'll be late this afternoon before he's ready to be moved."

"We want to see him." Ray said. Late this afternoon? Would he ever know what took so long with these tests and exams in a hospital? Probably not.

The doc nodded. "You can look in on him, then you all need to go back to base, get some sleep." He pointed at Jason. "You report to the clinic and let one of the medics on duty clean you up. The kid's okay, no excuse for you to ignore me now."

Jason let go of Mandy, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. No matter what he wanted, what he thought, his team came first. And to lead them, help them, keep them calm, he needed to see to himself so he could do that.

"Fine." Jason nodded. It was going to be another long day. Despite what the doc said, no one would get any decent rest until Clay was out of this hospital, away from these doctors who apparently didn't know jack shit and back on base. With them. "You're staying here." it wasn't a question.

"I won't leave here until Mr. Spenser does. I'll be on the transport with him."

***000***

Clay wasn't immediately granted medical clearance to fly home.  
The entire team stayed with him.  
Bravo went on their mission to round up Mandy's target without Clay.  
Eric went with them.  
Lisa ran command alone.  
Mandy babysat Clay.

Clay remained in the infirmary. Each day, he gained more mobility, ached less, stayed awake longer, took less pain medication. Daily hot baths, short walks and massages enabled him to bend, stretch, lift, squat days before the doctor had expected such activity from him and the doctor declared him fit to fly after seven days.

Yeah, no.

He'd argued against boarding the plane on a gurney, insisted he was capable of walking on his own and neither the doc nor Trent disagreed. The issue, they insisted, wasn't how far or how well he could walk without wincing or hissing or cussing in pain. It was the 15 plus hour flight home….either in a rubber net seat or a swinging hammock.

Take off was bumpy, the beginning of the flight rough as they climbed to cruising altitude. Minutes later, Clay was alone, the guys off on their own. Though the doc was nearby, he'd dozed off. Clay should know he could easily wake him, but yeah, he wasn't thinking clearly.

The higher the plane climbed, the worse he felt.

His ears wouldn't pop, his head felt like he was underwater, the pressure building behind his forehead. Most likely from his ears not popping, but all he knew was, he was fucking miserable.

Teeth gritted, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, he thought about getting up, finding Trent. He wasn't strapped down, could get up and walk if he wanted to but he didn't think he could even sit up if he tried.

Eh, what the hell…..he'd try….he did…he didn't make it...didn't even clear his head from the pillow.

Whether it was the pressure or the atmosphere, the decreased oxygen levels, whatever, Clay was uncomfortable and soon couldn't hide it. Cerberus whuffed in his face, licked at his cheek and padded away.

Seconds later, Trent squatted down next to him, the gurney lowered as close to the floor as it was capable of going.

"Hey," he just looked. "Happy you're not in a hammock?"

"Sucks anyway." Clay shifted his weight.

"Head hurt?"

"No."

"I meant, do you feel the pressure in your ears?"

"No." he swallowed, paused. "My chest." The pressure in his ears and head didn't even exist compared to the growing pain in his chest.

Trent hesitated. "I can give you something that will make you sleep, hold you for about four hours….can go on oxygen, see if you adjust any better, might feel better when you wake up."

Clay shook his head.

"Not the time to be macho here dude." Trent grinned. "Just cause doc said you could fly doesn't mean it's gonna be easy on you." Or us. "You're gonna ache for a month or better…take what I offer to make this flight easier on you." And us. "Get some relief." For all of us.

"Problem?" Jason asked and now all five Bravo stood around him.

Damn dog just had to go and get everyone. Clay grunted when Cerberus jumped on the mattress and got comfortable between his feet.

"He's not feeling to good." Trent told them. "He's okay, just the decreased oxygen levels as we go higher make it hard for him to breathe. Pressure's building and he's a stubborn ass."

"What can we do?" Ray asked. God, he wasn't selfish, but he did not want to hear they were turning around and landing back on base. He wanted to go home.

"Can give him something to help him sleep." Trent said. "Yes, something he's had before that won't make him sick, geesch." He added, knowing the argument someone would throw in his face. He stood up. "Will hold him about four hours, put him on oxygen, see how he feels when he wakes up."

"I'm okay." Clay insisted weakly, but he couldn't stop his hand from rubbing his chest. "Maybe not so much."

Doc was awake but didn't butt in. He watched Trent fill a syringe from a bottle out of a green duffel and give Clay the shot in his arm. Trent put the rails up on the gurney that was secured to the floor with brakes and straps then offered Clay the oxygen mask.

"Just try it." Trent encouraged when Clay was reluctant to take it. "See if it helps. Might not. Okay?"

Clay took it and held it a moment before putting the mask over his face. Trent didn't attempt to take it from him and put it on properly until the sedative kicked in and he was asleep.

"Is he good?" Sonny asked the doctor.

"He's fine." The doctor assured them. "Don't look so worried."

"Kinda hard not to worry." Brock bounced a tennis ball for Cerberus, but the dog didn't even open his eyes. "He was doing good and now…..." he put the ball away, gave the dogs ears a scratch. "He's not."

"It's the flight Brock." The doc said kindly. "Rather soon to be flying home, but everyone was eager to go…..Spenser most of all….there's no need to fuss."

Clay asleep, the guys moved off, returning to what they'd been doing before Cerberus had come over to nudge Brock out of his seat, leading him back to Clay.

Don't fuss? How was that supposed to be accomplished? Jason took a seat in one of the nearby rubber seats. His back against the wall of the plane vibrated with the plane's humming but he was comfortable for the time being.

What a fucking week – two weeks.

Brock had been injured, Mandy nearly kidnapped, Clay injured, Brock nearly killed, the team ambushed, Clay blown up, all of them nearly killed.

The mission to bring in the man who Mandy believed could give her intel and a lead on her priority target, Taha Fasih, had finally gone off with no further complications, but it had been a bust. The man knew nothing. So, this whole mission, this entire trip...a waste of time.

Hours in the hospital, waiting, wondering, wishing…..praying. Had kicked him in the gut. Taken him down. And then… _and then_ he'd been told, eh, kid's fine, sore, bit bruised, he'll be up and walking, back on missions in two weeks.

God! God Damn! How many times could he keep going through this?

"Kid's making it a habit." Eric sat down next to him. "Don't see retirement any time in our near future. Not with him around."

"Why is it, every time I look at that kid all I see is a flash-forward replay of him flying off his feet and landing on his head and not the moment he opened his eyes and said Boss?"

"Maybe 'cause you thought him tucked up safely in the Humvee?"

"I know better." Jason sighed, "I let him out of my sight and I don't know what to expect."

"Would you rather have had him just stay where he was?" Eric asked. "You took him with you on the mission, so yeah, even though you left him in the Humvee, you didn't leave him behind. There was never any doubt he was gonna come to your rescue if you needed him."

"We usually have to rescue him."

"Never a dull moment. Just remember, you wanted him. You all did."

"Not denying that." Jason laid his head back. "The doc thinks he's gonna be good to go in seven days. I've been through this, next mission, time comes to even think about letting him out of my sight..." my belly will revolt, my palms will sweat, "...my issue, I gotta work on it."

"Mandy's already on the next mission." Eric gave his shoulder a friendly punch. "I'm always here...Get some sleep."

Jason waited a bit longer, but Clay had succumbed to the pull of the sedative and was quiet, so Jason sought his hammock. He somehow doubted once the sedative wore off, Clay would remain asleep, and if he were awake, he wouldn't be settled or content if alone...so, might as well get some sleep while he could.

Clay might be ready to go in seven days, but Jason wasn't so sure he would be.

***END***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, someone left a comment that got me thinking and though this isn't exactly what they meant, this song came on the radio…and BAM!   
> So, up next…..'Hold on, I'm coming'.


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